“A little.” He had noticed the change that morning. Six days too late! He said: “You had a good show yesterday.”
“You should have been around last night,” said Stella, and cast up her eyes. “Sonny had his teeth in the part and decided to do a little ad libbing. You’ve seen Vic in his production rages, but have you ever seen him in one of his subtle moods? He’s an artist. For one hour he had Sonny on a page of script following each line the way a child reads and stammers through a primer. He made Sonny spell every word; then he made him read every word very slowly. ‘So you can actually read,’ Vic said with an air of surprise. ‘I was beginning to have my doubts. Now let me hear you read the part the way it was written.’ After that Sonny read the part—the way Curt Lake wrote it.”
Joe’s lips twitched. The elevator let them out into the reception-room and they sat together on one of the blue leather settees.
“I don’t think Vic’s troubles with Sonny are over,” Stella said thoughtfully. “Sonny’s had a touch of the coast; he may have picked up some of the Hollywood technic. When you get in a jam, yell for your agent.”
Joe couldn’t picture little, dapper Amby Carver bearding Vic Wylie. “Does Sonny make a steady practice of ad libbing?”
“It’s his specialty.”
“But doesn’t that ball up the cues?”
“Sonny’s only interested in building up his own part and stealing the show. He’s clever. Very often he gets away with it.”
“He was in City Boy last season. What happened there?”
“Ask the cast that played with him.”