Comedy Girl by Ellen Schreiber Page B

good in combat boots,” Eddie teased me. “You’re a little late for the show,” he called to Gavin.
    â€œHe’s right on time!” I said, running over and giving him a squeeze. But Gavin’s body was stiff. He didn’t kiss me and reluctantly opened my door.
    I could feel a chill in the car, and it wasn’t from the air-conditioning. “So you let Eddie watch?” Gavin asked accusingly.
    â€œNo, he sat in the kitchen. He said the cook was hilarious!”
    Gavin gave me an icy look and buckled his seat belt.
    â€œI can prove it. I’ve got the videotape! Seriously, Gavin. You have to understand. I’m just a beginner. But after Sunday this’ll all be over. The only giggling I’ll be doing is from your tickling.”
    â€œFriday night a bunch of us are going to see the original Rocky .”
    â€œA bunch?”
    â€œSam, me, Jenny, and Kitty.”
    â€œJenny and Kitty? That’s not a bunch! That’s a double date!”
    â€œIt would be a double date if you were coming.”
    â€œYou, Sam, and two cheerleaders?”
    â€œI’m not going to sit home on a Friday night, Trixie.”
    â€œOf course, I’m not asking you to. I’ll cancel the show. I’ll call in sick.”
    â€œYou can’t do that.”
    â€œI’ll tell them my heart broke,” I said, tears filling my eyes.
    â€œChill out, Starbaby,” he said.
    I hugged him hard, ashamed of my oozing vulnerability.
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    Gavin and I sat at my usual table at the back of the club, watching a budding female teenage comic rule the room with her jokes about high school. Everyone in the club was laughing, except me.
    She ended her routine to a Godzilla-sized laugh, replaced the mike, and smiled a cutesy smile. The audience rose and applauded wildly. Gavin turned to me and said, “She was hilarious. That girl’s going to be a star!”
    â€œToo bad we can’t stay to get her autograph,” I said, without passion. “I have to get back to my dorm and finish my thesis on the history of stage fright.”
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    I stared out the window as we pulled out of the parking lot. This was the first time my fantasy had turned into a nightmare.
    Chaplin’s bright neon sign blinked several times before it finally turned off for the night.
    I wasn’t ready for my light to be turned off.
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    â€œI’m outa here,” Cam said to me Sunday night after his set.
    â€œBut Tucker’s still performing.”
    â€œYeah, but I’ve been paid. There aren’t curtain calls in comedy, little lady.”
    â€œYou can’t leave!”
    â€œMiss me already?”
    The truth was I did. I had sat with Cam every night during Tucker’s set at my hidden table, and now my comic mate was going to be on a plane to San Francisco.
    â€œI’m next door at the lovely Amber Hills Hotel. Room two thirteen,” he offered.
    I was afraid I’d never see him again, and I was desperate to keep my professional comedy connections. I wanted to find out more about the business, what life was like on the road, how to get booked at other clubs, how to improve my act. But what if I found out more than I wanted to know?
    Suddenly I remembered my promise to Sergeant. She had agreed to let Ben drive me home, so I could hang out for my last hurrah. According to my watch, I wouldn’t turn into a pumpkin for one more hour.
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    Vic counted out ten twenty-dollar bills in his backstage office. “I just need your autograph on the receipt.”
    I caressed the money.
    â€œAnd I need an emcee in two weeks. Can I put you down?”
    In my hand I held more money than I’d received at my Bat Mitzvah! And I was paid for doing the one thing I loved the most—making people laugh.
    But what about the wrath of Sarge? Would this mean the final straw for Gavin?
    Vic tapped his pen restlessly. “Well, I can get someone else.”
    What would a real