LITMIR.BIZ

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looked down her slender body, letting his eyes rest contemplatively at her waist. “That may be so. But why should I give you the part, Bett?”

      Bett swallowed. He wasn’t going to make her back down. He knew, as she did, that she was perfect for the role. She didn’t even have to put on a Southern accent; she already had one, left over from her childhood in Atlanta.

      “Come on,” he said curtly, “give me a reason.”

      “Because I’m in hock up to my ears,” she said, her eyes glinting.

      One eyebrow rose. “Not from what I’ve heard about you. You’ve had one successful run after another for the past two years. You were nominated for a Tony last year.”

      “And I enjoyed every penny,” she agreed miserably. “Until my business manager talked me into investing heavily in what was supposed to be a riskless venture. I lost everything. All my savings are gone. Now I’m in debt, way over my head.”

      “So,” he said heavily.

      She shrugged. “Easy come, easy go?”

      The phrase was one they’d exchanged all those years ago in Altanta when they were doing summer stock, and it brought back more memories than she’d expected it to. Her eyes lifted to his and he searched them coldly.

      “Don’t offer me the past, Elisabet,” he said levelly. “I want no part of it, or you. Having a lovesick teenager hanging on my sleeve is something I can do without these days.”

      It took every ounce of willpower she had not to slap him. But she needed the part desperately, and he knew it. The mocking smile told her so.

      He let her stew for a full minute before he said, carelessly, “You have the part, if you want it. Ted and James think you play the role magnificently, complete with accent.”

      “What do you think? You wrote it.”

      His slitted green eyes ran over her like hands. “You’ll be adequate,” he said flatly, and turned away.

      * * *

      “Adequate,” Bett fumed when she went back to the apartment she shared with Janet Simms, a successful model. “Adequate! He never believed in me, never! He said I’d fall flat on my face six years ago. But I didn’t,” she added hotly. “I didn’t! I came to New York, and I worked hard, and I’ve made a name for myself! I have a leather coat and an uptown apartment and a great future according to the reviewers….”

      “And you owe the government your arms, legs and a year’s salary,” Janet reminded her, and sighed. “You crazy idiot, why did you have to try out for Cul’s play?”

      “Because I needed a job, and that was the only role going that I wanted to play,” she said curtly. She sat down near the window, her face pensive. “Besides,” she added, staring down into her lap. “Besides…”

      “It was a glowing opportunity to get your knife into Edward McCullough?” Janet suggested. “At point-blank range?”

      Bett shook her head wearily. “No. It’s just that I couldn’t resist the part. It has such feeling, such dra- matic beauty…” She tangled her hands in her red-gold hair. “They hadn’t announced the director. How could I have possibly known that Cul would turn up at the audition, for God’s sake?”

      “He’s the playwright, too, why shouldn’t he? Didn’t you say he always has casting approval written into his contracts?”

      “Yes,” Bett said miserably. She stared at her feet, hating the size of them. She was tall and tended to be too slender, but at least she carried it gracefully.

      “What are you going to do about the taxes?” Janet asked.

      Bett shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked up. “I’ve only thirty days to get up the estimated amount, from what my accountant told me. I’ll have to cut corners like mad. And that means I can’t stay here.” She sighed miserably. In the past few days, her secure life had come tumbling around her ears. She was going to miss Janet terribly, but she couldn’t possibly pay even half of the rent for the Park Avenue apartment. “I guess I’ll work everything out somehow.”

      “Of course you will,” Janet said bracingly. “After all, you talked the director of that nude play about Elizabeth the First into letting you wear a corset.”

      “Remind me to tell you all about that someday.” Bett chuckled. “I always seem to get picked for Elizabeth.”

      “You look exactly like paintings of her,” Janet said. “Except that your hairline isn’t as far back, and your skin isn’t as white. But the eyes, and the facial features, even the color of your hair is so like hers…” She grinned. “And she was a virgin, too.”

      “Don’t say that out loud, somebody might hear you!” Bett exclaimed, laughing. “I’m supposed to be three months’ pregnant in the play!”

      “A biological first—pregnancy without fertilization. Just think, it will make all the medical journals,” Janet teased.

      “Want to go apartment hunting with me?” Bett asked as she got her coat and headed for the door.

      “I guess I’d better. I do know the turf better than you do. Just let me get a coat.”

      Bett wished she hadn’t had to sell her pretty leather one. With a sigh, she examined her threadworn coat, an old tweed one that she kept for sentimental reasons. Cul had taken her walking through Piedmont Park one late spring day, and she’d worn that coat….

      Her eyes clouded. She slipped on the tweed without any real enthusiasm and followed Janet out the door.

      The apartment they found was a shocking change from her former quarters. It was in Queens, on the top floor of a tenement building, and the noise from her neighbors was nonstop.

      “I can’t leave you here,” Janet said firmly. “I can’t. Come with me, we’ll find something else.”

      “No. It’s perfect,” Bett said, glancing around at the white dinette set with the peeling paint, the counter with its broken Formica top and the living room with its swaybacked sofa and matching chair with torn fabric.

      “The health department would condemn it even after it was cleaned up,” Janet protested.

      “Just right for a struggling actress,” Bett said with a forced smile. “After all, I started out in a place like this. First I’ll take care of the rent, and then we’ll go out and stock this place with a few groceries.”

      “We can get you some curtains, too,” Janet added thoughtfully. “And maybe a throw cover for that awful sofa, and a couple of bushy plants—”

      “We can not,” Bett interrupted her. “I don’t have the luxury of living up to my celebrity status anymore. Remember, I’m going to be on a tight budget for a long time.”

      Janet only moaned, muttering something about the fickleness of fate.

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