High C

6. Old Maid

"Sounds right."

"Oh yeah? She also says you have to have all your children by thirty-four, so how does that work out?"

"Well, you and your sister have your own money, so those rules don't apply to you."

"Then for the millionth time, let me ask you why, with Natasha and I having good careers and decent family security, and brains and good judgement and independent natures and self worth – "

Her mother gave her a wrap-it-up wrist roll.

"Why, if the rules don't apply to us, do you still insist on us marrying into money?"

"Don't tell your father I said this, but I could live with it if only one of you did."

"That doesn't help. You know how competitive we are. Each of us will just wait the other out till menopause."

"To spite me?"

"Natasha probably would've married Rodney already. If you and Daddy could've only been cool, you could have had a grandbaby by now."

"And she was really hoping you were going to marry Kurt and let her off the hook, so I guess it's your fault."

"I was never even close to it."

"Look, if you want to break my heart and say you'll never have children, marry whoever you want."

"I'm already two years past the deadline, according to Winters."

"But if you want kids, too bad. The family money won't last forever. Customer service will be a thing of the past soon. People are getting worse and worse."

"Then why do I have to mingle?"

"Because that's how you find out Patsy Lidell's sister just got twenty-five million in her divorce."

"I know that's your dream for us."

"From your lips to God's ears."

*****

Having finally made it to the theatre, Natasha, Maya and Bob now stood outside Orchestra Doors A waiting for an entrance signal from director Rudy Gallo who was about to surprise Globus' Opera Company players by announcing the diva's arrival. Natasha scrolled through her phone, checking emails,  while the undulating sounds of indiscernible voices echoing from the auditorium made it easy to ignore Maya's proposition to Bob, which was this:

"I need a side-person."

"You mean, like a side-piece?" Bob's eyes struggled to bulge under disconcerted brows.

"No," Maya sniffed with equal incredulity. She paused her headshaking long enough to pinch Bob's arm in a few places, testing for meatiness to be sure. "No," she denied again. "I need a side-person. A person who stands beside me who I can make all my discreet, witty comments to. You know," she said, leaning into him with a crooked mouth to whisper, "like this."

"Ahh, I get it," Bob whispered back.

"I thought you would. A large entourage is a waste."

"It's a terrific offer, and I'd probably do it just for kicks, but I'm going to have to say no. It's hard to be snide on command."

"Do you know who Cleo Van Cleef is?"

Bob did know the actress as someone who'd stolen a part from a more worthy colleague. "I sure do," he said.

"Did you know she's been cast as my younger sister in this?"

"Will she be facing the back of the stage the whole play?"