Free The Ruby Tear by Suzy McKee Charnas Page B

wife.
    Jess didn’t need to get any nearer to someone who might be that unreliable.
    “Anthony,” she said, leaning lightly against him in apology for what she was about to say, “Anthony, I don’t think—”
    “Hush,” he murmured, turning her in a swift circle with expert and elegant assurance,” of course you don’t, but let an old man dream a little, won’t you?”
    “Dream on,” she said, “but it’s getting pretty late, Methuselah, and we’re both up for a big scene tomorrow.”
    * * *
    “Just as well,” he said, stepping away to reclaim his half-finished drink from a side table by the sofa. “Anything more than a friendly dance and Sally knows about it, somehow. Then there’s more hell than ever to pay. I do not know how the woman does it. She’s some kind of genius—the evil kind.”
    “Come on, Anthony, you love her to pieces, and it’s mutual; who are you trying to kid?”
    He looked at her sadly. “That’s how it looks to you, my dear, but remember—Sal and I are actors. ”
    She gave his stubbly cheek a quick peck and turned to gather up her coat and scarf. “That’s a hell of a better line than ‘My wife doesn’t understand me.’ Listen, I’m going to get out of here before we both end up in trouble, okay? Have you seen my shoes?”
    Sinclair raked his fingers back through his thick, graying hair and yawned. “Look under the sofa. I think I kicked something in that direction a few minutes ago. I’ll take you downstairs.”
    “Don’t be silly. I’ve taken self-defense classes, you know, mostly to fend off unwelcome fans.”
    “Exactly,” he said. “You’re a beautiful girl, and at this hour only a certain type of professional woman is supposed to be out on the streets all by herself!”
    She sputtered a laugh. “Come on, in New York?”
    He frowned. “Yes, in New York. Seriously, Jessamyn, I can’t help worrying. Anita told me about the marbles someone scattered on the floor of your dressing room. You could have taken one hell of a fall! That’s more than a prank.”
    “Yes,” she admitted, “I don’t like it either, but I’ve put up with nastiness backstage before; we all have. If I don’t make a fuss it’ll probably go away, or at least dwindle to scribbling rude words on the wall.”
    In fact she’d been considerably shaken up by the incident. But the last thing in the world she wanted was to give the unknown prankster the satisfaction of a big public reaction. Besides, she had too much riding on this par to allow someone’s malice to distract her.
    So she and Marie had gathered up the marbles and said nothing (or maybe not quite nothing, since Anthony and Anita and presumably, by now, the entire company plainly knew about it).
    “Lunatic business,” he muttered, scowling at himself in the hall mirror and setting his tie straight. “I wish Nick hadn’t named those dogs of his after the Scottish play. It’s never wise to tempt the Fates. We’re so much at their mercy as it is.”
    Jess noted that even in complaint, Sinclair avoided saying the actual name of “the Scottish play” out loud. It was really too bad that Walter had let slip that Nick’s dobies were named Mac and Beth.
    “I’ll be all right, Anthony. Whoever it was has probably worked off their hostility with those marbles. Trust me, he or she is sitting around tonight feeling all shocked and horrified at the thought of what might have happened because of their spite.”
    “Well, I think you should take precautions,” he said. “What about that pretty pendant you wore to rehearsal tonight? Take care of it. It fits your Eva so well—you don’t want to tempt some sneaky bastard to walk off with it.”
    “It’s locked up safely,” she said. “After all, it’s not really mine. I expect whoever sent it to show up any minute and ask for it back.” Or for something else instead; but that was best left unsaid.
    She held the apartment door open while Sinclair checked his appearance one