Clear understanding came to Joe. Stella had suspected that Amby, flushed with a new importance, would not be able to resist the temptation to impress that importance on Vic Wylie; Stella had urged him into the studio so that Wylie would make a fresh mental comparison.
“Thanks, Stella,” he said.
Stella gave a faint smile. “Not that Vic needed the lesson,” she said.
A new Joe Carlin walked out of FKIP, the old high-spirited lilt back in his stride. Amby Carver sputtered angrily in Royal Street and Sonny Baker listened with languid amusement. Joe’s dislike of Sonny increased. Amby had brought Sonny back from the coast and had put him in a part; the actor should at least have remembered that. But Sonny, Joe saw in a flash of wisdom, would be a taker and never a giver, egotistical and selfish, and contemptuous even of his friends.
One thought ran happily through the boy’s mind: Vic, ousting Amby as having nothing to do with the show, had told him to stay. Sonny taking liberties with script, and Amby trying to get tough! His voice couldn’t have begun to come back at a better time. All his worries of the past week had been unnecessary worries. Well, he’d be smart. He’d stay away and, along toward the end of the week, call Vic and tell him he was all right. After that, he might have another few days to wait. Waiting, when you waited in sick uncertainty, was hard; but those last few days of waiting would be comparatively easy. He’d be on his way back.
The heady pulse of show business once more throbbed in his blood. Sentiment took him back to the restaurant off Royal Street where Vic had once rehearsed him across a table. He had hoped to have the table to himself, but a girl sat where Wylie had sat. Disappointed, he walked past the table. Then the girl turned her head and he recognized Miss Robb.
Vic Wylie’s stenographer said in a rush of words: “When did you get back in circulation, Joe? Were you at FKIP? Did you hear Lucille Borden goes on the air next Monday? The show’s a comedy—Never Tell a Woman. I didn’t know she could play comedy. Did you?”
The girl was plainly flustered. Was she afraid he’d begin to ask her questions about the Sue Davis show, about Sonny Baker, about the rehearsals? He had, Joe reflected, learned all he needed to know this morning.
Miss Robb rattled on: “I saw a movie last night, Joe. Guns Along the Rio.”
Joe’s mind was elsewhere. “That’s an old picture, isn’t it?”