an accolade for which many actors fought. Ken was flattered to know that Max Price would succeed Leon Shaw as his agent.
"I can get you an engagement in a fall show," Price said. "However, you'll have to stop drinking."
"I haven't touched a drop in nearly a year," Ken told him. Apparently ill-repute is easily remembered, seldom forgot.
"Stay away from it," Price ordered.
It was easy enough to stay away from liquor. Ken was prepared to work, not to play. He reported each day at Pierce's. His body responded slowly, was systematically put through its paces. He made no attempt to work on a new routine. He was not yet ready.
During these first busy days he found in Tommy an agreeable mate. The boy's hair, as Ken exercised at Pierce's, was an aureole, glowing in the shadow of the dingy practice room. He was forever at Ken's side, offering fresh ice water, running to the next-door cafeteria for a sandwich, fanning Ken when the heat overcame him. Nice to have a friend such as Tommy.
It was not difficult for Ken to deceive himself into believing that Tommy's attachment to him was arranged by a benevolent fate. Nevertheless, sturdy resolutions and bitter lessons learned at a terrible price were forgotten. The very presence of Tommy was evidence that Ken was moving again in a familiar orbit, the path of which had been determined and which he, despite the exercise of his free will, could never change. And yet—what price sin?
At home, lying on his bed, a purple silk robe lightly covering his fair body, Tommy seemed the picture of
