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“Have you seen my earrings?” Bev zipped up the back of her dress.

“Did you check the thing?”

“Yeah I checked the thing.”

“Don’t worry,” Sal blotted out her cigarette, “They’re probably in other thing.”

“We don’t got another thing,” Bev shimmered frantically around the room.

“Well, then it must be in that one.”

“I packed them, right?” she tossed over pillows and empty dresser drawers, “I didn’t leave them in Cleveland?”

“How should I know? They’re your earrings.”

“Sally, can y’please?” Bev flicked her wrist, backhanding the air.

“What? So you’ll go on without earrings – big deal.”

“They’re my signature.”

“Signature?” Sal laughed, “Bev, we’re playing a cheap lounge with an out of tune piano, the hell do you need a signature for?”

Bev’s nose wrinkled sour.

“Why do you wear the same lace garter at every show, huh? We both know nobody sees it.”

Sal looked up to meet her eye and arrived at checkmate.

“I’ll help y’look.”