Joe remembered the day he had found Amby out and had scorned him, and how Wylie had said: “Kid, he’ll never forgive you.” But he was too young, too raw and inexperienced, to cope with this acid baiting.
A light switched on in the control-room. The hollow eyes of Vic Wylie stared out at them.
“This is a rehearsal,” the producer snapped through the two-way mike. “Those not connected with the show will leave the studio.”
Joe walked toward the door.
“Not you, kid.”
Fire ran through Joe. If he was still connected with the show ... Sonny Baker, languidly amused, was watching him.
“Look here, Wylie,” dapper Ambrose Carver cried angrily, “if you think—”
The light in the control-room snapped off. Vic Wylie came out to the studio, hollow-eyed and tired.
“Where’s your spot in this show. Carver?”
“I’m Sonny’s agent.”