Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 38, No. 13, Mid-December 1993

Laszlo stepped into the car. Those of us who weren’t quite covered yet didn’t holler; Laszlo is management. He was concerned with quality control and felt he had to check to be sure we had our stockings painted all the way up, and on both legs, to say nothing of whether the seams were straight. The girls did this, too, but he pointed out that since he’d had experience in the publicity department, he was the expert. He lingered over Sissy’s stockings, which were distinctive. The whole business of painting in the seams entertained her so much that she always had Misty paint bunnies on as well. This was a complete waste of effort. They’d look at Sissy’s legs bunnies or no bunnies.

Once inspection was over, Laszlo straightened up, wiped his mouth off, and clapped his hands some more. “Okay, people! You know the drill, don’t you?”

We did, but the last person who’d said so had been sent home. “You two,” he explained, pointing at Olivia and Velvet. “Go out first, during the intro. Take Lorenzo with you.”

The rest of our cast had been loitering at the open door keeping an eye on Laszlo’s inspection, just to see if he needed assistance with the brain work. The old character objected, “I thought we agreed young Bevis would go out with the first assault.”

Bevis’s head came up. He obviously hadn’t been included in “we.”

Laszlo whirled. “What’re you doing in here? This is the women’s car. We’re going with the contrast: the elderly with the youngish. Then you...”

He pointed at Jewell, who shook her head. “I think I...”

“Don’t think,” he snapped. “It’s my job to do the thinking for this troupe. Your job is to stand against the doorway with your eyelids down and your tits up. Come on, people! We’ll never get the job done if you aren’t going to take direction! And if you can’t take direction, you’re in the wrong business. This is for Uncle Sam, people. Bevis comes in next, just ahead of Baby Eloise.” He gave The Child Star a warm smile before adding, “With you guys.”

Jewell glared at Sissy and me but had no time to snarl or froth at the mouth. Laszlo went on through the whole program, grabbing our shoulders and pushing us here and there in imitation of the program on the platform. He told us where to stand, how to stand, when to smile, and when to sing what, repeating all instructions several times, with little variations as these occurred to him.

His uncle actually let Laszlo direct a film once. He turned out to be bossy and incompetent, but in spite of that, Tiger Lady of Toongan lost money, and the experiment had not been repeated. He released his frustrations and unused talent for confusion by bossing the help. It didn’t really matter much what we did on the platform anyhow, so long as bonds got sold and the local Chamber of Commerce got its picture taken with us. Anything that went right Laszlo would take credit for, and any uncomfortable developments would give him something new to shout at us about.

He drilled the big names most, especially The Child Star and, because we’d be going out with her, Sissy and me. Jewell’s scowl deepened.

But when the train slowed, she wore a bright, cheerful smile. We all wore bright, cheerful smiles. You’d have thought we were escapees from the local smiling academy.

“Kindly get that elbow out of my midsection; I may wish to use it at dinner,” growled Edwin Lorenzo through his bright, cheerful smile as we crushed into the caboose, kicking furniture aside.

“Prices are supposed to be lower out here,” Olivia murmured to me past her bright, cheerful smile. “Think we’ll get time off to buy supplies?”

“Laszlo’s keeping a tight rein,” I told her through a bright, cheerful smile of my own. “He’s not going to allow us a break for recreational hoarding.”

As the train slowed still more, we could make out the sound of the French Willow band. We could also hear the weather that was waiting outside.

Jim sidled up to The Child Star in what he no doubt thought was a very private move. “Here,” he whispered, giving her a wink and something else as well.

“Oh,” she said, studying the weapon.

“It’s a slingshot,” he explained, holding up his hands to shield her from the view of any Nazi spies who happened to be standing in a direct line with his hands and the slingshot.

“Yes,” she agreed, voice and face equally lackluster. “I had one in Baby Eloise on Aloha Island. What do you want me to do with it?”

He was baffled for a second but remembered she was not in on his intelligence reports. “Just keep it till I get a picture. And these.” He handed her some small rocks.

Her forehead wrinkled a little, but she nodded. They’d taught her never to express an opinion or a preference. Slingshot and ammo were tucked away without comment.

But her eyes narrowed as we came to a halt and she saw the banners and crowds waiting out there. Red, white, and blue letters shouted, “Welcome, Baby Eloise!”

She sighed. “All those people think they love me. And they don’t know me at all.”