speeding to Springfield in a Mercedes which, some said, he had purchased second-hand from Howard Vee.
The new stage manager, Willie Warrener, an old-time road man, was scandalized by the actions of the company and threatened to plaster fines on each and every one of them if they did not sober up in time for the Monday noon rehearsal in Springfield. Annie Begley quieted Warrener with a bottle of Piper Heidsick. He opened it, imbibed it and returned for more. "Let's be friends," Annie said to him. She smacked him with a large wet kiss as the train pulled into the Springfield station.
Frankie Regan rode in the Mercedes with Ken to Springfield. The powerful car clung to the smooth surface of the Post Road. "We're in for a wild tour with this show," Frankie said. "You'll love the road. And if you don't, you can still get drunk in Podunk. Jules Monroe has put some of his best chicken in the line. You'll find Jimmie Durazzo a swell egg. We'll traipse around together, and by the time you hit Boston you'll forget Howard ever lived."
"I'm glad he's on his way to Europe," Ken said. "I'm glad I didn't go with him."
"You have the conscience of a saint," Frankie replied. "Suppose you had gone along, what then?"
"I am selfish. I wanted to be free. Frankie, I'm through eating my heart out. I'm through with what he calls lyric love and emotional orgasms."
"Meaning what?"
"I'm going gay."
Frankie took a flask from his pocket. "Have one, buddy?"
"No, sistie."
