Dressing rooms were downstairs beneath the stage at the Alpine which meant walking quite some distance, but they were large and modernly furnished and equipped with TV. Television often helped to pass the time between the long intermissions. She sat now, checking her makeup. She had selected one of her western, fringed outfits (they were all pretty much the same but this one was maroon and of a velvet kind of material), very expensive and custom-made. She never wore her stage garb outside anyplace where she worked because if the income tax people caught you they were declared not deductible. The rule was, if you could wear it on the street you could not deduct it and so she always changed, even between shows when she didn't leave the building.
She listened now to he sounds of musicians and performers warming up and rehearsing in the adjoining dressing rooms as she primped and got ready for her first show. There was a trumpet playing scales and a vocal trio trying out a new number. From upstairs, in the main room, she could hear a final chord from the large band that backed the star in the main room. Someday, she hoped she would stop playing only lounges and play the main rooms where you have a full band for accompaniment and where the real money is. "Don't worry, sugar," her father said from the couch behind her. "Some day you'll play the main rooms, too." It was eerie the way Daddy sometimes seemed to read her mind. Well, she decided, they both had the same goal. Stardom. When she became a full-fledged star they would have oodles of money, and they could take long vacations and go to Europe or the Orient.
"I know, Daddy," she said. "It's just a mater of time. After all, I'm only sixteen. I've come a long way. I guess I shouldn't be overanxious."
Actually, she felt a lot older than sixteen and they both knew it. Her feeling older and acting older was partly because of the unique relationship with her father and, too, traveling and working in show business tended to accelerate one's maturity. She knew that she felt a lot older than sixteen this afternoon when they had watched that threesome fucking and sucking in the woods. Any other normal sixteen-year-old would undoubtedly have been shocked, but she had accepted it as perfectly normal – a little indiscreet perhaps but perfectly normal. She had done everything they had done and more as far as sex was concerned – Daddy had seen to that except she hadn't ever had sex with more than one person at a time. Well, maybe a man with a cock the size of Tony's required two girls to handle him. Still, she wouldn't want to share a man like Tony with any girl. She would want him all to herself. She smiled at this. But maybe he was so much in demand he had to take them on two at a time so they could all have a turn. "What are you smiling about?" her father asked. She looked at his reflection in the light-bulb rimmed mirror. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Just happy, that's all. You know I always feel good about opening night." She was the opposite of most performers, she knew. Opening nights never gave her the jitters. The rehearsal with the light man this afternoon had gone perfectly and her voice always carried well on this stage and there was absolutely nothing to be worried about. Most performers, if they were at all inclined to get jittery, did so on opening nights.
"You're my little trouper, honey," her father said.
"I'm your little everything," she said.
"Don't start looking at me that way or I'll muss up your makeup kissing you," he said, grinning.
"You could just slip off my bottoms," Sherry said, joking. "That wouldn't muss up my makeup."
"No, that's not a good idea. We can wait until bedtime. Don't you know about sublimation? The sex drive is very important. When you're satisfied sexually you don't perform as well. When your sexual drive is unsatisfied your actions are channeled into whatever you are doing. The sexual drive can be sublimated in many ways. Tonight you should use it to give your all when performing."
"Interesting," she said, "but I'm not sure I believe it. We've fucked lots of times during intermission and I don't think my shows have suffered, do you?"
Her father laughed. "Well, it's a theory anyway. Don't pay any attention to me. I'm just making conversation."
"You sure I look okay?" she asked.
"Ravishing," Victor said. "You will win them over and have, them screaming for more and more and more."
"I wonder how the crowd is?" she asked. It was Thursday and week-nights never drew the crowds weekends did. She was concerned about the head count. The maitre d' always took a count of lounge customers before and after each act. It was management's way of determining whether a particular act was drawing or not.
Sometimes, if the previous act was good, you inherited a good-sized audience. If the act was bad, you started with nothing. The idea was to keep or increase the large audiences and build the small audiences to room capacity. With the new raise Gil had obtained she was more anxious than ever for the head count to be favorable.
Acts that consistently lost people, eventually got the axe. Still, she knew that Gil could not possibly have gotten her a raise if the count had not been favorable – very favorable – many, many times.
"Don't worry," her father said. "I will personally count heads before you go on and afterwards. What do you think I do when I'm out front anyway? Masturbate?"
She laughed. "Frankly, I never noticed. Maybe you do. Maybe I'm so sexy you do. That would be a good one. The Alpine Hotel proudly presents Sherry Trent, The Sunbeams, and their masturbating business manager, Victor Redgrave!"
They both laughed and suddenly Sherry realized that she was slightly nervous. Probably because of Gil Turner getting the salary raise, she thought, puzzled. But then she became aware of a deep voice warming up in one of the dressing rooms. It had begun undetectably without her realizing it and then slowly crescendoed. Subconsciously she had heard it which had account for her nervousness. The voice rose in volume now, its timbre full and mellow as it went up and down scales. It was the same voice she and her father had heard in the woods earlier that day. It was Tony and she and Tony were obviously working the Alpine Lounge together on the same bill.
Without thinking, her hand went to her mouth in shock and she exchanged a meaningful glance with her father in the mirror. Just then a voice passed outside in the hall calling, "Tony Agnello! Mr. Tony Agnello!"
The singer stopped. "Yes," Tony said, opening his dressing room door.
"There's some girl wants to talk to you on the telephone."
"Tell her I'm busy," he said, and closed the door.
The singing started again.
"Now I'm worried about more than head counts in the lounge," Victor Redgrave said.
Sherry pretended she had not heard the singing or the voice in the hall. "What, Daddy? What did you say?"
"Don't play games with me," he said brusquely. "You're my daughter, remember? I've known you for quite some time now – intimately. I saw the way you acted this afternoon at the sight of that stud's cock. I wasn't totally surprised. I've been expecting something to happen for some time now. After all, you are getting older and you are normal."
"Please, Daddy. Don't talk to me this way."
"I will talk to you this way. Remember what I told you about ever letting me catch you with another man, especially this Tony Agnello! I'm going upstairs now and look around. You can stay and listen to his lovely voice as long as that's all you do. See you at the first show."
Victor Redgrave left then, closing the door quietly behind him.