Final Curtain Read Online Free Page A

new kids have to advertise all of their accomplishments! Oh, hell, it’s probably the only time she’ll get an acting award, so why not boast? Goody,” she added, looking at the reserved parking spots for the director and artistic director, “Karen and Gerold are here too. They can all witness how early I am.”
    Tim eased the Rolls into a space near the stage door entrance. For effect, in case anyone was watching, he slipped out of his seat and made a big deal about opening the rear passenger door for his mother and Placenta and formally ushering them out of the car. He stood at military attention, then made the motion of clicking the heels of his Nikes. He led the way to the artists’ entrance to the theater and opened the door.
    After a brief exchange of “good mornings” with old George the doorman, and signing in on the daily attendance roster, Polly and crew wended their way to the lavatory to check her makeup. A few minutes later they climbed the stairs leading to the stage wings. Calling out in her most theatrical and projected voice, Polly announced herself in advance, “Guess who’s not only on time, but extremely early?” Her voice preceded her arrival onstage, but when she and her entourage stood together facing an empty house, she looked confused. “Where is everybody? Sharon? Karen? Gerold?” Polly asked.
    As Polly, Tim, and Placenta roamed about the half-dark stage and then checked out the auditorium, they killed time by commenting on the need to reupholster the seats, splash a coat of paint on the proscenium, and shampoo the carpet along the aisles. “Ugh. Glendale,” Polly said. Then, one by one, the other cast members began to trickle in.
    Charlotte Bunch was first. She beamed when she saw Polly and hurried from the wings onto the stage to greet her old friend. “Isn’t it too wonderful that we’re doing a show together again?” Charlotte embraced Polly. “My short-term memory isn’t what it used to be, but I clearly recall that week you invited me to be a guest on your show.”
    Polly smiled. “I remember too,” she said, remembering the extremely low ratings of that particular program. “At the time you were doing guest-starring roles on The Bob Newhart Show and Mannix . Seems as though for a couple of seasons you were everywhere! Johnny Carson , Merv Griffin , Dinah Shore , Rhoda .”
    Charlotte sighed. “I should have bought my apartment building when I had some dough. You were smart to buy that big ol’ place in Bel Air. Bet you couldn’t touch it now. I saw Pepper Plantation in Architectural Digest a few years ago. My God, you probably paid pennies by today’s standards! I especially loved your Emmy room.”
    “It is rather impressive, isn’t it?” Polly beamed. “It’s been a lovely home in which to raise my family,” she said, knowing that Charlotte had never married and never had children.
    Charlotte’s face turned a slight shade of green as she looked over at Tim.
    By ten o’clock most of the cast had assembled onstage. While everyone waited for the director and ingénue to walk through the door, they all made small talk among each other. Polly feigned interest in Beauregard’s lengthy list of stage and television credits, which he reeled off like a waiter explaining the house specials for the evening.
    Polly plastered a fake smile to her lips as Emily Hutcherson sidled up to her. In a warmer greeting than the day before, she announced that she was writing her memoirs and would Polly please consider offering a blurb for the book jacket. “And risk committing career suicide? I’d love to,” Polly said.
    “I haven’t exactly started the book yet,” Emily said. “But all my friends tell me I absolutely have to put pen to paper and share the funny showbiz stories with which I regale my guests at dinner parties.”
    Polly smiled, predicting that Emily would never take the time to write a book.
    Another half hour passed and Polly was still tapping her foot on the