"Don't you think we oughta rehearse in the morning?" Ken asked.
"What for? Take it easy. Don't wear yourself out," she said. "Feinberg saw us, that counted for more'n I thought. Squeeze that lime into my glass. And drink."
Ken squeezed the lime. "I can't go this stuff much," he said. "It hits the lining of my stomach."
"You'll get use to gin and alkie again if you stay in vaudeville." She sat down on the bed. "Come here, sit beside me."
He sat down.
The room was steeped in the musty odor of an old hotel. Even the bedclothing was impregnated with the dry smell.
"You're a strange boy," she said. "Here we are old friends. This is the first time in history you've sat next to me on a bed."
She slipped a bare arm around his neck and kissed him. He smiled and returned the kiss.
"I like you," he said. "Guess I'm a little afraid of you still."
"You don't have to be, sweet," she said. "I wanta tell you something tonight before it's too late. You've done great things for me. It wasn't so much that I was busted when I met up with you—I still am, for that matter—but you've made me feel full of wim and wigor again. I'm ambitious again. Anyone who ever said Nita Rogers would slave the way I did with you woulda been put out of the kingdom of heaven just on general principles."
"I don't believe you were so bad." He laughed. She smiled and they found themselves kissing. She slipped away from him, poured another drink and drank it.
"You've had me on the wagon, imagine that … me!"
