“Hello, Gilbert!” the guy mimicked, sliding into the plush limo.
Bess was giggling uncontrollably, and Nancy couldn’t help smiling as Rick’s friend took off his glasses, revealing another pair underneath.
Finally, they pulled back into traffic and Nancy got a good look at Gilbert. Without his getup on, he was pretty cute. He had glossy black hair and warm brown eyes that twinkled with laughter.
“Gil is going to be the next host at the Comedy Basement,” Rick said. “He does stand-up.”
“I also do sit up and grow up,” Gil announced. Everyone groaned.
Throwing a proprietary arm around Bess’s shoulder, Rick instructed the driver to take them to Forty-second Street and the Hudson River.
“Today we’re going to do all those corny things you see in old movies about New York,” Rick said. “Like go on a boat trip around Manhattan and to the top of the Empire State Building. Bess is a very old-fashioned girl,” he explained to his friend.
“Rick Arlen! I am not!” Bess protested. Secretly, though, she was flattered by his remark.
By the time they got to the West Side pier, the four of them were relaxed and having a great time. Before leaving the limo, Rick put on sunglasses and an old hat. That way, most of his face was covered. “Just normal precautions,” he insisted. “These go everywhere with me. Otherwise, the fans—well, I’m sure you can imagine.”
“I think you look adorable like that,” Gilbert said. Rick punched his friend lightly on the arm, and they all piled out of the car.
“So, Gil, how did you get involved in show business?” Nancy asked while they waited on deck for the cruise to start.
“Oh, now we’re going way back—to the day little Freddie Gilbert was born in Illinois in a log cabin— No, no, just kidding. How did I get involved in show business, you ask. Thank goodness someone cares besides my mother.”
In spite of his nonstop chatter and putdown humor, Nancy decided she liked Gil. He seemed a little lonely, somehow, and afraid to be just himself, but instinct told her he had a good heart.
“You see, my real name is Fred Gilbert. I had to change it after I got to New York. There already was a Fred Gilbert out there in the show business stratosphere. And so Gilbert Frost was born. But he had the wrong nose. So I changed that, too. And then I had to darken my hair. By the time I was finished, the same club owners who used to tell me to get lost were dying to sign me. What can I tell you? It’s a crazy business. Maybe someday I’ll even make enough to pay my rent. And if I’m really lucky, I might even hit it big like old Rick here.”
“I’m sure you will,” Nancy said, looking up.
The view from the boat was spectacular—the skyline sparkled in the noon sun.
But as the boat trip continued and they finally circled the northern tip of Manhattan, Nancy couldn’t help feeling that something was wrong. All through the ride, she had been keeping an eye on Rick. And she noticed other people were watching him, too. Nancy saw two women look at him, jab each other, and whisper. And a child tugged on his father’s sleeve and pointed toward Rick. A portly man was also watching him, although he pretended to be looking at something else.
As the boat swung into the final leg of the tour, Nancy recognized the portly man. He had been the one cursing Rory Danner on the tour of the set just two days before.
“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. We will be docking in a few minutes. Please disembark via the white stairs on the port side of the boat. That’s the left, to all you landlubbers,” the tour guide instructed.
“That’s him! That’s Rick Arlen!” a young woman suddenly shrieked.
An excited murmur went through the crowd, and everyone turned to look at Rick.
“Take the hat off, Rory! We know it’s you!” a woman called out good-naturedly. The group laughed, and Rick cooperated.
“Ah, my fans.” He smiled and waved. “You’re the greatest—all of you! I love you madly!”