Chapter 16The Harold Calloway Theatre stood silent, darkened, against the glittery Manhattan skyline, as did its neighbors along 47th Street. The city might never sleep but late night meant the marquees were doused, props put away, actors gone home, and the words which gave life to the stage grew quiet. Only to live again another night, when the curtain would rise and expectations of a foreign world, one of laughs and of family angst and of untapped fears, would reveal themselves, and for a couple of hours nothing mattered but a place invented by its creator, the stories of who lived and died on the streets on temporary hold.
But reality was about to intrude upon the theatre’s inside, truth leading the charge.
Jimmy arrived just after midnight. Welly’s limousine was still parked in front
