Excerpt from Delayed Rays of a Star by Amanda Lee Koe, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

The next morning, she tendered her resignation. The manager took her aside.

You're one of our better players, he said. I want you to know that.

Thank you kindly, Marlene said. Tell me, do you believe in God above? She scooted closer to him. Involuntarily, he squirmed from the unexpected proximity. Yes, she prompted as she blinked up at him, or no?

Why yes, he stammered. Of course I trust in Him. Don't you?

Alas for me, Marlene said, no. So you see, she added as if for his benefit, if there is neither savior nor paradise in my world, it would be best to be singular in this life.

She pretended not to notice the manager shuffling a half step away to reinstate between them that more respectable distance. All the best, he pronounced gingerly, as she prepared to take her leave. A bead of sweat traversed, with comic timing, the side of his forehead. Marlene dropped her hat, and then her coat, as she burst out laughing.

Now the ballroom violins were inching on to a flimsy and polite Strauss waltz.

Marlene scowled down an oversimplified glissando till it tailed off. Looking up, she saw the Chinese woman curtsy away from the man with the snuffed-up nose hair at the front of the line. Throwing his hands up in disbelief, he refused to let her pass but was elbowed aside by a bushy- haired brunette in a long- sleeved dress. A short way behind them was a photographer with his camera. A waiter capered about the coterie of shiny people in motion, offering up flutes of champagne. What a circus!

Tipping back her drink, Marlene went over.


As if dancing with no pause was not enough of a challenge, Anna May had to beat her gums and keep up light conversation with every white chump who wanted to know her name, what was it like in China, how long would she be in Berlin, was she really a Hollywood actress, maybe they could show her around, all while making excuses for those who went off rhythm and stepped on her feet. She was perspiring steadily under the arms. Her dress was sleeveless and black, so there was no worry about sweat stains, but she wanted to catch her breath, and her mouth had tired of smiling.

The last heeler spun her in and threw her out with such smug gusto, as if she were a newly purchased hand-loomed carpet he was unfurling in his sitting room for all and sundry to admire. As the tune petered out, he leaned in. She thought he was bowing his thanks.

Just so you know, he whispered right by her ear, I'm a high roller on this continent.

Unsure of what she was supposed to do with this information, she went with: That's neat.

Well, he said. Have you decided with whom you'll spend the night?

Anna May bit down on the inside of her cheek to cover up her wince. Three men ago she told herself to turn the next dance down. Each time, as the following guest stepped up, she found herself unable to say no, and she saw that in any case everyone was more than happy to misread her hesitation for shyness, even anticipation, as they took her hand. What she found repellent here was her unvarying incapacity, at times like these, to react in immediate accordance with her own feelings. She found it easier to fleece herself than to leave someone else less room to stand. Things had to hit the skids before she insisted on her terms. As the music changed, finally, she curtsied politely away from the next man in line.

He, middle- aged and greasy- haired, was not amused by her rejection.

After all, he said in German- edged English, refusing to budge as he waved his cane at the queue and his place in it. Who must you think you are? She, too, might have liked to know the answer to his question, but to help them both out of it, she said: My apologies, but I am afraid I am much in need of a glass of water.

All the waiter had was Moët & Chandon.

He promised to come back with some water.

Sparkling, he said, just for you.

Excerpted from Delayed Rays of a Star by Amanda Lee Koe. Copyright © 2019 by Amanda Lee Koe . Excerpted by permission of Nan A. Talese. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.