Ladler nodded to the small group and they settled back, dropping their jackets and scripts again on empty seats. "Fern, if you and Cora Lee would like to go out to the lobby and get a Coke, we'll call you in a few moments."

Cora Lee slipped away backstage. Fern took a seat beside Vivi, looking defiantly at Ladler. The cats watched the little drama, fascinated. They felt terrible for Cora Lee. The kit's tail lashed so hard that Dulcie put a paw on it. "Stop it, Kit. Before someone looks up here."

Ladler looked Fern over. "All right, if you want to hear this." He turned his back on her, facing Elliott. "Fern's not right for the part. She can't hold a candle to Cora Lee. Not right physically or emotionally. Her singing does not do justice to the songs, or to your play."

"I have to disagree," Elliott said. "Fern has the part, or there is no play."

"They're not in the same league," Sam snapped, the color coming up in his lean face. "Cora Lee is Catalina. We couldn't have a better fit. What is it you're seeing here? Do you want to try to explain?"

"Fern's completely right for the part," Traynor repeated, glancing at Vivi. "I'm the writer. I know what I-"

Mark King, stepping to the edge of the stage, stood looking down at Traynor. "There's nothing right about her. Fern, you really ought to leave, and not have to hear this. But I have to agree that Cora Lee is perfect."

"That is so shallow and wrong," Vivi snapped, her look nudging Elliott.

"I'm sorry," Elliott said stiffly. "It's my play. Fern Barth has the part or you can stop production."

Ladler looked them both over. "Cora Lee French has the part or I don't direct the play."

Elliott rose, staring at him.

Ladler stiffened almost as if he would hit Elliott. High above them, the three cats looked down from the shadows ready for a good brawl, even if Elliott was to be considered an invalid.

Ladler looked at Elliott a long time, then turned away. "Stuff the play." He dropped the script on the floor and moved on down to the little group of fascinated actors. "Go home. The play is canceled. You'll have to wait for this one until Mr. Traynor finds another theater."

Vivi rose, snatching up her jacket, but Elliott pushed her into a seat, glaring at her, and moved after Ladler. "Wait, Sam."

Ladler turned, scowling. Quickly Elliott took his arm and walked him outside through the exit door. From the stage, Mark King stood watching them, his round, bespectacled face pale with anger, then he moved away toward the dressing rooms, where Cora Lee had disappeared.

Elliott and Ladler were gone for some time. Fern sat quietly beside Vivi, both staring straight ahead, never glancing toward the other actors. No one spoke, the atmosphere in the theater had swung from the poignancy of Catalina's lament to conflict as brittle as shattered glass. Above in the darkness the kit rose and padded along the rafter heading backstage, looking for Cora Lee.

When Elliott and Sam Ladler returned, Elliott was smiling amiably, Ladler stone-faced. He paused stiffly before Fern.

"The part is yours. Cora Lee will understudy." He turned away to the waiting actors and sat down among them.

In a few moments, Cora Lee and King came out from backstage. Cora Lee looked at Ladler for a long moment. He said, "Will you understudy?"

"I suppose I will," she said, her face closed and expressionless. As she turned away again, the cats could see the kit behind her, lurking in the shadows.

"What did Traynor offer him?" Joe said. "And why? What does Fern have that Traynor needs? Or what does she have on Traynor?"

Ladler rose from the group of actors. "Let's get on with it. I want readers for Marcos. We'll get through tryouts tonight. Rehearsals will start Wednesday."

Joe and Dulcie were too disappointed to listen to further readings; they didn't care who got the part of Marcos. The dark, good-looking young Latino man would likely have it. Or maybe the pale-haired surfer, who had a good voice, too, but would certainly have to resort to dark makeup and black hair dye. Probably it wouldn't matter to Cora Lee who got the male lead. Dulcie could imagine her backstage, dealing with her disappointment, maybe with the kit snuggling up close, trying to cheer her. Why had Elliott Traynor gone along with this? It had certainly been Vivi who pushed for it. Neither Joe nor Dulcie had any answers. Among the rafters, they dozed until tryouts ended. As the players rose to leave, they heard Vivi arrange quietly to meet Fern at Binnie's Italian.

Beating it out of the theater, the two cats headed for Binnie's, galloping across the dark roofs beneath a skittering wind. Watching the street below, they saw the Traynors' black Lincoln pass them, and when they dropped down to a low overhang, then to the sidewalk around the corner from Binnie's, the Lincoln was parked at the curb. Elliott and Vivi were still in the car, arguing.

Crouching by the rear tire, the cats listened, trying not to sneeze at the stink of hot rubber and exhaust fumes.

"… know damn well you went too far," Elliott was saying. "Don't you think that looked-"

"What was I supposed to do? That was the deal, that Fern get the part. And you were going to cave!"

"This Cora Lee French was good, Vivi. How do you think this looks, when we-?"

"Good has nothing to do with it! Looks have nothing to do with it. What the hell are you thinking!"

"I'm thinking that if you keep this up, you'll blow it. Ladler will back out. And don't you think people will start asking questions?"

"Sam Ladler knew it was part of the deal. Fern has the part, or there's no money on the side. What made him defy you like that? How did you straighten him out?"

"I upped the ante. It isn't every day a little theater director sees that kind of money."

"And he didn't ask questions?"

"What's he going to ask? He knows not to ask. We've been through this. I said he'd get twice what you offered."

"You what? Didn't you think-"

"Twice what you offered. You don't have a choice, Vivi. So shut up. Right now, I'm in the driver's seat."

The two cats watched Fern's Toyota pull up in front of Binnie's Italian. Vivi and Elliott were still sitting in their black Lincoln, snapping at each other. When Fern parked in front of them Vivi got out and hurried into the restaurant with her, slamming the glass door nearly in Elliott's face. Catching the door, he swung in behind them and eased it closed.

On the warm concrete beneath the newspaper rack, Joe and Dulcie crouched looking up through the restaurant window where Vivi and Fern and Elliott were settling into a booth. Vivi glanced out blankly to where the cats were idly washing their paws, the cats of less interest to her than the metal newsstand. Dulcie loved spying on someone when she was in plain sight. Through the thin glass they could hear every word.

The waitress on duty was Binnie's niece, a slight, shy Italian girl who didn't look old enough to have a work permit. Certainly she was too young to serve liquor. When Vivi ordered a bottle of Chablis, Binnie himself hurried out with it, uncorking the bottle across his white-aproned, ample belly, his jowled face rosy from the kitchen. Binnie did enjoy going through the little tasting ritual. Elliott handled Binnie's ceremony with abject boredom.

Binnie poured in silence, smiled hesitantly at Vivi, and when his smile was not returned, he retreated quietly to his kitchen.

"Here's to it," Vivi said, lifting her glass. "So far, very smooth. Even Ladler wasn't much of a problem."

"It's a wonderful part," Fern gushed. "I'll do well by it, you'll see." She patted Elliott's hand. "I'm going to be great in this part; it's going to make my career." Fern was, apparently, not the brightest young woman. The cats sat through interminable small talk, licking their whiskers when the pizza was served. Vivi and Elliott ate in silence, letting Fern ramble, a tedious monologue that left Joe and Dulcie yawning. They were ready to cut out and go hunt rats when Clyde and Ryan Flannery came around the corner, walking arm in arm, softly laughing.