The Vaudeville Star (5 page)

“In love! She’s like a bitch in heat. Momma and I pray every night that she stays in Connecticut and gets a job as a governess or teacher. We don’t want her back, Ford. She isn’t decent, and she shouldn’t be around decent folk.”

Ford gave her a cold look. “I pity both you and your mother, Pernetta. Ruby is filled with nothing but kindness and generosity. And it seems she was right. The only person who truly loved her is gone.”

“Daddy didn’t see her for her true self. He was blinded by her beauty, like all men are.”

“Her beauty isn’t just skin deep. She is a good person while you seem filled with hate. I think I should thank Ruby for that evening at the watering hole. She saved me from making a huge mistake. If you’ll excuse me.” Ford inclined his head slightly, leaving Pernetta to stare after him.

R
uby dressed carefully
in preparation for her meeting with Vaudeville Vern. She had slept well, and unlike the last several weeks, her dreams did not revolve around Ford. She had not seen him since their night together in Connecticut, and since she had left school, he had no way to reach her.

She had decided after much thought that she would not tell her mother or sister of her plans. She was of age, and there was nothing they could do to prevent her from following her dreams. She was actually quite sure that given their need for appearances, they would probably try and find some way to stop her. So rather than risk their displeasure, she did not contact them.

She had not taken any fancy gowns with her to school, so when she traveled to New York, the dresses she brought with her were modest. She pulled one out and then another and laid them upon the bed.

She realized as she started out on this new journey in her life that she had grown up rather pampered and catered to. On the plantation, she had servants to attend to her needs—a maid, a butler, a cook. Now she was alone. But the thought of being alone in this large city was not frightening as it had once been. She had already made friends and found a place to live.

A knock fell upon her door, and no sooner had she said enter than Bessie did just that.

“Morning, Ruby,” she said warmly. “How did you sleep?”

“Well. Very well,” she greeted Bessie though her thoughts were consumed with looking at the dresses and making a decision.

“The pink day dress,” Bessie said simply.

“You think?” Ruby turned to her.

“Absolutely. The color suits you and makes you look feminine and young. That’s all that matters onstage.” Bessie laughed. “And sometimes a little talent.”

Ruby moved to change into the day dress as Bessie averted her eyes.

“Is there anything I should know about Vernon? I mean, what to say or do to help me get into his good graces?”

“Graces? Vern? I doubt it. The man is middle-aged, never been married, and devoted to the theater. The only thing that Vern cares about is being the top theater in New York. I would say relax and be yourself.”

“Okay.” Ruby said, smoothing down the front of her dress.

“You look lovely, Ruby. Really lovely,” she said as Ruby pulled on her gloves and pinned on her hat.

“You may have to wait until after rehearsal. I’m not sure what is planned today. Sometimes we rehearse, sometimes not. And it all depends on Madame Diva!” Bessie said as they joined Archie downstairs.

“Madame Diva?” Ruby asked.

“You’ll see.” Bessie nodded with a smile on her face.

* * *

T
he boardinghouse was
a ten-minute walk from the theater, and Bessie chatted about Kansas while Archie remained silent, walking behind them. They entered through the front foyer and walked into a darkened theater. Ruby saw several people standing around onstage while a man was standing in front of the first row, gesturing.

“Have a seat here, Ruby. When the time is right, I’ll call you,” Bessie whispered to her.

She nodded and watched as Archie and Bessie walked down the long aisle and mounted the side stairs to the stage.

“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?”

“Yes, sir. My name is Ruby Mae Sutton. Everyone calls me Ruby.”

“Well, Ruby. You are quite the looker. An ingenue
if ever I saw one,” he remarked.

“Ingenue?” she repeated, unsure of the word.

“A young and pretty actress,” Bessie explained.

“What do you do, Ruby?” he said, puffing on his cigar.

“I sing. Though I don’t know if I’m any good,” she admitted.

“Well, let me tell you something, Ruby. A typical vaudeville show has nine acts, but I only have five acts, though the sisters, Bessie here, and Zeta perform twice. Our top billing is Zeta. She is well liked by the audiences, and they come to see her perform. Why, I’ll never know. But there it is.”

“I understand, sir.” Her hopes were dashed. There was no place for her here after all.

Vernon was studying Ruby. “You’re young and fresh. You have a trim figure. Turn around,” he told her.

Ruby flushed pink, but Bessie nodded to do as Vernon asked. Ruby made a small circle and felt uncomfortable as she did it.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, smiling. “You can be our card girl.”

Bessie smiled, but Ruby was lost. “Card girl? What is that?”

“Simple. Before each act, you’ll come out carrying a card with the next performer’s name.”

“That’s it? That’s all I need to do?” Ruby asked, hopeful again.

“Sure. But you’ll need to wear something nice. Something that shows a bit of leg. Maybe a corset and some stockings.” Vernon smiled, warming to the idea.

“You want me to go out onstage before perfect strangers in my undergarments?” Ruby asked, mortified.

Vernon frowned. “Now you listen to me, missy. My show may not be the best in town, but I have top-notch performers. Zeta may be a pain in my ass, but she has performed in London and Rome, and you have performed absolutely nowhere, correct?”

“Except at Miss Porter’s School,” Ruby whispered.

“Miss Porter’s—oh Christ! Miss Porter’s School! Take it or leave it,” Vernon said before stalking away.

Ruby turned her tear-filled eyes to Bessie. “I can’t go onstage in my chemise and corset!”

“Come on, Ruby. It isn’t all that bad,” Bessie said. “We’ll find you something nice to wear. He just wants you to show a bit of leg to keep the audience from leaving. Sometimes they do in between performances. But you’ll keep them glued to their seat.”

Together, Ruby and Bessie went downstairs to where the costumes were kept.

“You know it isn’t what you think, Ruby. Everyone wears less clothing onstage. That’s part of the reason we stay afloat. Wait until you see what the Hungarian sisters wear; you’ll be shocked. And even me, my dress shows my ankles, and Zeta wears revealing dresses. It’s what they want to see,” Bessie explained. “A little flash of skin, it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

They found a striking dress that had a tight corset with off-the-shoulder sleeves, and though the skirt was long in the back, it opened in the front to reveal her knees and ankles. Ruby felt naked, but Bessie was pleased.

“It’s perfect, Ruby! It shows off your small waist and legs, but not too much.” Bessie smiled.

“Not too much?” Ruby looked at herself in the mirror, entirely unconvinced.

The material was striped pink and white satin with the corset nipping in her already small waist. The off-the-shoulder sleeves were attractive, but her legs were completely bare from the knees down, though the skirt protected her backside all the way to the floor.

“Let’s show Vern. He has final say on all costumes,” Bessie said.

Vernon smiled broadly when Ruby walked in wearing the satin gown. “Oh yes! That is perfect, sweetheart. What did you say your name was?”

“Ruby, sir.”

“Excellent. You can start this Friday,” he directed and then told her the amount of her wage, which seemed pitifully small.

The wage was lower than she had expected, but she could manage. She had saved up enough for her room and board, and the job would help.

“Thank you, sir.”

When they returned to the costume room, Ruby thankfully pulled on her simple day dress, happy to have her body covered once more.

“Take the costume with us. We need to clean it,” Bessie told her.

* * *

W
hen they returned
to the boardinghouse with the costume in tow, Ruby finally came face-to-face with the Hungarian sisters, who also roomed at Mrs. Hodges’ and were in the same show as Bessie and Archie. She had not had a chance to meet them earlier at the theater due to Zeta’s outburst.

“Disgraceful,” Olga Vadas said as she entered Ruby’s room uninvited. Olga and her sisters, Blanka and Greta, had left behind their native homeland of Hungary to come to America to take to the stage. They performed risqué dances to music hall songs and were very popular with the male audience members. They had been performing for several years. Olga was a curvy woman with a large bosom and small lips.

Ruby occupied the window seat while Bessie was at the table studying the gown for stains and repairs.

“What is disgraceful, Olga? Have you met Ruby?” Bessie said without looking up.

“Hello, Ruby. I am Olga Vadas. Disgraceful is the way that pompous prima donna has everyone in the theater falling over themselves to do her bidding. She should be careful. She is of an age,” Olga finished ominously.

“Of an age?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, my darling girl. She is of an age. That age when women are no longer looked at as beautiful, and thus—poof—they disappear from the stage,” she said dramatically.