“You’re gonna do great,” Brad said. He’d arrived a few hours ago.
It was the afternoon of the first performance. Andy had made sure the practice was covered so he could come to the opening.
Ted and Hank came in.
“Hey. Glad you guys could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Hank. “Good luck.”
“Whoa, Cowboy!” everyone shouted at once.
“Don’t say, ‘good luck’—that’s bad luck for an actor on opening night,” Brad explained.
“Well, then, what do you say?” Hank asked.
“Break a leg,” Brad told him.
Hank laughed. “Oh, okay. Well, bust a gut, Mr. B.”
“Thanks, Hank. I will.” I smiled and left for the auditorium.
I spent the rest of the early evening putting on my makeup, joking with the stage crew and trying to calm Dick, who was in a state of nervous collapse. I wondered why several of the cast got the giggles when I wished them, “Break a leg.”