"Good God, you can't even hear him!" one of the men whispered.
Someone else in the darkened theatre called, "Hold it! Can you give it a little more, Van? We can't hear it out here."
Van Richie squinted toward the seats. "Are the mikes up?"
"All the way. You're going to have to push it."
The piano resumed. Richie's voice was true but small. The whisperer groaned. "He could use that old megaphone right about now."
When the number was over, Richie came down from the stage and joined them. "You need help, Van," Feldt said bluntly.
"What about it, Ben?" They all turned to a man sitting alone, several rows back.
"You don't want a lapel mike?" Ben asked, coming slowly down the aisle.
"Too much cable trailing around. There'll be dancers all over that stage."
"Lavalier the same thing?"