It’s a mess out there. The city’s just coming out of those riots, and all them white folks are tight as a bow. Got management worried.
DESSI
And what’s that got to do with us?
CAL
They’re afraid the light’ll hit you just right and the audience might think you’re a white girl onstage with a bunch of Negroes.
DESSI (LAUGHS)
Whoo. They come up with some stuff, don’t they? And what they want to do about that?
Cal pulls a small tin out of his pocket.
CAL
They… uh, got this greasepaint for you to wear.
DESSI
The hell I am, Cal. I ain’t singing in no blackface.
CAL
We got a contract, Dess. They won’t pay us, and not only that, but they’ll spread the word. Maybe mess up bookings for the rest of this trip. It’ll ruin things for all of us.
DESSI
But I’m the only one gotta wear it! Not you. Not them.
CAL
It ain’t right, but what choice do we have? What choice do we ever have?
DESSI
Cal, no. If we play down South, I’m pissing in cups and shitting in the woods. Eating on buses. And up here, this?
CAL
It’s all America, Dess.
DESSI
Well, I’m good and damn tired of it.
CAL
We all are. Look, I’ll take you somewhere nice for dinner. Just… put it on? For me? For the band? So we can get paid and get outta here?
Dessi wipes away a tear and nods. Cal squats down in front of her and gently smears on the greasepaint.
CLOSE SHOT ON DESSI
She stares at her darkened face in the mirror before standing and following Cal out.
INTERIOR – THEATER STAGE
