“I’d love to hear them,” Mabel said.
“I hope you’ll get to. Kid just needs his lucky break is all.” Theta held her wrap on one shoulder. “Showtime, dolls. Give the place a look like you’re too good for the dump. Just follow me.”
Theta sauntered past the tables, not deigning to look at anyone. Heads turned as Theta, Evie, and Mabel followed the host through the crowded tables. They were Shebas in their flapper finery, and they drew appreciative gazes. A few people recognized Theta from the Follies.
“Must be the duck’s quack to be famous,” Evie said.
Theta shrugged. “They think they know me, but they don’t.”
The host seated them at a table in a corner and handed them menus printed on heavy cream-colored paper. Mabel’s eyes widened. “I can’t believe these prices!”
“Believe it,” Theta said. “Make sure you like whatever you order, ’cause you’ll be nursing it all night long.”
“My mother would cast a kitten over the excess,” Mabel said guiltily.
“Your mother isn’t here.”
“Thank heavens for that,” Evie muttered.
A waiter appeared with a bottle of champagne and a silver bucket of ice. “Sorry, pal. We didn’t order bubbly,” Theta said.
“For the ladies. From an appreciative gentleman,” the waiter said.
“Which one?” Evie said, craning her neck.
“Mr. Samson at table fifteen,” the waiter said, indicating delicately with a nod.
“Oh, brother,” Theta said.
“What is it?” Evie couldn’t see too well in the dark.
“See that fella across the way? Don’t be obvious about it.”
The girls peeked over the tops of their menus. Four tables over sat a heavyset man with a very full mustache and the smug air of Wall Street success. “The one who looks like a walrus without a zoo?” Evie asked.
“The same. He’s one of those chumps who wants to feel like he’s young and exciting. Probably got a wife and three brats up in Bedford and thinks we’ll show him a good time. Oh, he’s looking at us. Smile, girls.”
Evie flashed her teeth, and the older man raised his glass. The girls raised theirs in reply. The man blew a kiss and motioned for them to join him.