“Nothing?” Phule scowled. “That isn’t how I’d describe what’s happened to your father and Tiffany.”
“I can’t speak for Tiffany,” the youth said. “But my father’s had broken bones before. It goes with the job. As for the rest of us, we were warned of the possible danger involved in this deal, and we accepted it. Just because it’s become a reality hasn’t changed the terms of our contract. We’re all ready to go on working for you if you’ll let us.”
“All of you?”
“Well, we haven’t had a chance to check with Tiffany,” the boy admitted. “That’s why I wanted to discuss this in front of her.”
“You can add my vote to that, kid,” the actress said firmly. “It looks like I’ll be stuck here for a while, anyway, but …”
She pulled herself up into a sitting position, hugging her knees to steady herself. “Let me tell you something, Mister Phule. You may be some kind of hotshot in the business world, or even the military, but it seems you have a lot to learn about show business.”
“I guess I do,” the commander said, shaking his head slightly. “Would either of you care to enlighten me?”
Tiffany gave out an unladylike snort.
“It appears you have the common misconception that entertainers are hothouse flowers that have to be babied and protected. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Our profession has never really been socially acceptable, and anyone who makes a living at it has had to put up with physical and mental abuse as a norm, not as an exception. You may think of the theater as being sophisticated and artsy, but our roots are in traveling troupes that were closer to carnivals and snake-oil shows than any black-tie opening night.”