Katherine the Great

     Crushed peanut shells littered the floor of Katherine’s tiny dressing room and led out into the hallway, trailing nearly the entire distance to the stage. The elegant, thick, maroon carpet of old had long ago been traded for an expanse of thin, green indoor/outdoor floor covering laid inexpertly over painted, poured concrete. The business had certainly changed since the days when Katherine’s appearances were heralded with a contract rider that insisted upon champagne, strawberries, a full buffet, and a dresser full of fresh roses and snapdragons. The room was empty of any luxury now, and the only chair at the makeup mirror was worn through and had been repaired with duct tape so long ago that the tape had also worn through. 

    If Katherine was troubled by any of this, she never let it show. The sign outside still said “Katherine the Great and Black Eyed Susie”, and that was all that mattered.

Susie sat on an overturned bucket in the corner of the room, supplied by management when Katherine asked for a second chair to be brought in. Susie was balanced so that the west and north walls of the room provided support for her fragile, slumping body. Her face turned demurely to the west, Susie looked ashamed to be at the Laredo theater, even though the pair had headlined there dozens of times since the 1970s. Susie had once taken top billing, but to modern audiences that affectation seemed forced, or, as Katherine said, “Corny”. Susie said nothing at the time, of course.

    Katherine talked out loud as she readied herself for the show. She was not so much speaking to Susie as she was speaking to the room. Susie sat still and silent, her dress hiked indelicately up to her hip on her right side, revealing padded bloomers covered in polka dots.

“I hope they ran the ad in the Post. I told them I could guarantee a full house this weekend if they’d run that ad. A full-page ad pays for itself opening night. Jessel said that to me, and the man played standing room only. Standing room only.” Katherine nodded as she pulled at a room temperature rum and coke she'd been nursing since the afternoon.

    Katherine squeezed a tube onto her index finger and rubbed a dot of cream onto her upper eyelid.

She continued, “Sinatra Jr., the son, came to see the show one night in Albany, after we ran a full-page ad in the Clarion, and we couldn’t let him in the club! He wouldn’a fit! Packed for two shows that Friday and Saturday. He had to come back Saturday late and the manager comped his ticket for him. That’s the power of advertising, Miss.” 

    She shot Susie a sidelong glance and reached over to give her hemline a tug back to respectability. Katherine sighed. She'd told all of this to Susie before, and for that matter, Susie had been there at the time. Pre-show jitters always made her a little talky.

    “Save your voice for the show,” she whispered.

    She stood up and looked in the mirror, sizing herself up. She smoothed down the front of her skirt and worked it back up to show the costume garter on her thigh.