spoke with flourishes, moved with striking dynamism. Queer sort of duck.
“I may be out of the country for your opening, I’m afraid,” Ryan was saying. “But I was just telling Jasmine—”
“Oh—Jasmine.” Cohen shrugged dismissively. “She does have her charms. Believe me, I understand. But Andrew—I’m told that this show may close rather sooner than we expected. Dandies was to be my re-emergence, my metamorphosis! And the cocoon, I find, is rather constricting and may squeeze me out too soon—” He hugged himself tight, seemed to writhe in his own hug as he said it. “I feel positively squeezed!”
“Artists chafe at constraint,” Ryan said, nodding sympathetically. “Don’t worry about the show—Broadway will soon be old hat. We’ll create our own venue for genius, Sander!”
“Really! And with what sort of … scope? A large audience?”
“You’ll see. As for scope—well, there will be plenty of people to appreciate you there. Almost a captive audience in a way.”
“Ooh, nothing I’d like better than a captive audience! But I must away! I see Jimmy signaling desperately to me from the dressing room. Do keep me informed as to this … this new project, Andrew!”
“You will be among the first to know when it’s ready, Sander. It will take some courage on your part”—Ryan smiled crookedly—“but if you take the leap, you’ll find yourself immersed in something beautiful.”
They watched Sander Cohen strutting off toward the dressing rooms. It seemed to Bill that Cohen was off his trolley, but Ryan was right—genius was eccentric. As if guessing his thoughts, Ryan said, “Yes, Bill, he can be … outrageous. Exasperating. But all the great ones hurt the eyes and burn the ears a bit. He calls himself the Napoleon of Mime sometimes—and so he is, when he’s miming. Come along, Bill. We’re off to the airport. If you’re quite ready to go. Or are you having second thoughts?”
Bill grinned. “Not me, sir. I’m in, A to Zed. I’m diving in at the deep end, Mr. Ryan…
0 Comments