Chapter 47Steve waited in the lobby. They wouldn’t let him backstage, which was below ground in this theater-in-the-round. He couldn’t be there. Something about the insurance, they’d said. He sat on a bench. His hands held his head, propped up with elbows on knees.
This was his fault. He knew it. If he’d been more accepting, complained less, more understanding, Josh wouldn’t be doing this. It was all Steve’s own fault.
The usher’s high-heeled shoes stepped over to him. Steve’s eyes followed the nylon stocking up to the skirt, the blouse, and the matronly face.
“The show’s beginning, sir,” she said.
“I know. Thanks.”
“Can I help you find your seat?”
“It’s okay. I know where it is.” The best ticket he could get at this late date was in the back. He wanted to see Josh but couldn’t bring
