I've always been one to believe in the inherent good of all people, but apparently, she is just a bitch. One of the dancers has me to led their dressing room where I'm to become their aid for the week and has been recounting the conversation between Mary and Velma. Willy never told my mother he was passing me off as a servant girl to the latest act passing through.
I doubt Mother would approve of it, but I'm not really that concerned. I stay on their good side, I fetch a couple cups of water, cigarettes, a few magazines for awhile. It's easy money. I thank the dancer, and rap on the door twice, then enter when there's no answer.
"Shit!" a voice cries, as I'm standing there. Roxie has her hand on Velma's exposed breasts, and she's got a look of pleasure on her face. But Velma's eyes are wide with surprise. The rumors were true ; I'm astonished to say the least, but I find my voice regardless.
"Hello, you must be Velma Kelly and Roxie Hart. I'm Lena Bratton, the stagehand Willy sent. Pleased to meet you," I greet them cordially, holding out my hand for them to shake. I think twice about extending my hand, considering where it's been and draw it back. But Roxie only looks over idly while Velma reaches into her pocket pulling a tight roll of paper out.
"Oh, darling. It's alphabetical. Roxie and Velma," Roxie replies, taking the paper from Velma. "Here's a little list of things that just have to be done. Be a dear," she says, handing the roll to me. I accept it gingerly.
"C'mon, Vel, I don't think she really cares about us," Roxie comments to Velma, who's by now arranged her dress around herself once again. Velma shoots a look at me and I cringe a little. She seems so cold and calculating. I can't understand why Roxie, who seems decent, would want to be around her. Roxie strokes Velma's hair delicately, and just stares at me.
Velma recoils away from her. "Christ! You're worse than a dog begging for a bone. Always hungry." Roxie stops stroking abruptly and storms to the other side of the dressing room, tossing herself on the nearest chair. Velma turns to me.
"Enjoyed the show? You didn't really see anything worth mentioning to others, did you," she asks in a condescending tone, as if speaking to a child who just viewed a carnival. I shake my head vigorously. "Good. Now run along, you have your little list."
I leave, closing the door behind me. Unrolling the papers, I'm dismayed at the contents. These are extremely tiresome tasks that should and could be accomplished by their own able selves.
Three glasses of water per person per show, two bottles of asprin, two bouquets of fresh roses, two copies of McClure's magazine, two pairs of white gloves, two plates of fresh steak, two new victrola records every night. Notes to clarify how bright the spotlights must be, how they must be introduced, etc. Five pages of work that will take me hours to complete.
"Hey, girl!" I hear a voice behind me call, as I walk down towards the stage. I turn and Velma's running towards me. "Girl. I have another task I need you to do. Go to the jeweler for me, tell them I want a silver chain with a heart shaped disk reading 'Velma' on it. And make it quick, I need it soon."
"My name's Lena," I reply, adding the new chore to the list. Velma coughs suddenly, then looks up me and down.
"Oh? That's nice. Lena Bratton, you said? Your mother isn't Vivica Bratton, is she?" she asks. I nod. "Darb actress. Saw her once in Uninvited Pleasures. You going to be a starlet?"
She's being pleasant towards me, maybe she isn't that bad.
"No, I'm a writer," I tell her, smiling as if she's a friend. Velma doesn't return the nice gesture.
"Oh, I look forward to reading your writing. On that list. As you check off what you've done. Okay, enough with beating your gums. Scram!" she hisses, as she walks away.
I sigh and light a cigarette. Suddenly I feel as the day has taken on so many hours.