Chapter 69

“You’re a Chita, too!” he exclaims, then he explains. “The owner, Joe, concocted this salad for his girlfriend at the time, Chita Rivera. She wanted something light after a show.”

Whether this is true or not, I don’t know, but sure, I’ll be Chita.

It doesn’t take long. A male fan nervously offers a pen and a copy of his meal receipt to Chaz.

“When will you see you on Broadway again, Mr. Stewart?” he admiringly asks. “You’re not forsaking us for TV, are you?”

I hear frustration in his sigh. He’s a theater luminary who won’t count himself truly successful with Law & Order or a secondary sidekick voice in a Pixar movie. It’s why he probably turned down the Charles Busch play transferring to Broadway. He would have been playing some flame-y detective; Charles would, of course, be in a turban. He wants more, in every medium, the leap from Broadway that doesn’t happen often.

“I’m focusing on film work right now, but you never know,” I hear him say.