Thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers and to Dale for the photo!
What Happens on Broadway
That girl, Evelyn, stunned tonight. She’s everything I wanted to be: pretty, talented, tenacious. Her reaction when that numbskull director said she was over-singing? Priceless. He’s only directed O’Neill before. What’s he know about musicals?
Everything aches. I’m getting too old for the biz.
Evelyn approaches, seems nervous.
I shrug. “Sure.”
“My mother was Deborah Benoit.”
“I knew Deb.”
“Why didn’t you tell her about you and my dad?”
Damn the quitting cigarettes. “She seemed happy. Happier than me. So, I let the cheating bastard go.”
Martyrdom becomes me.
Maybe I cheated first. Meh. Who remembers? Who cares?
end (100 words)