“I do the same thing after meetings. Someone else takes the minutes. But I always write a meeting memo for my own files. I notice if someone seemed out of sorts, or nervous. Or was a particular jackass. Gives context to the official notes.”
“Exactly.” My notes were just that. Notes. Timelines. Some questions. Nothing too detailed, or reflecting too much concern. Just old habit.
Emma headed back upstairs to get ready for work. She tried to call Jerry Cunningham before she left. She got his voicemail and left a message telling him how sorry she was, and that she was available any time for anything he needed. I was surprised that Jerry’s voicemail wasn’t full. He either had a better phone plan than I did or he was keeping up with his messages.
Harry woke up at nine, and looked ragged. “I’m inviting Stewart up for breakfast, is that okay?”
“That’s fine.” And it was. But it also meant I was getting dressed. Women and gay men could see me in my flannel poodle PJs, but ex-boyfriends? Not so much. I took a quick shower and got dressed. My day’s outfit looked much like Emma’s morning ensemble—workout pants, a T-shirt, and a warm fleece. A little makeup in honor of Stewart’s presence and I went out to meet my public.
The boys were sitting around the table, scripts splayed and coffee cake demolished in front of them. They were deep in discussion, so I grabbed the coffeepot and brought it back into the kitchen to make another pot. Third of the day. I needed to buy more coffee, but then again, I might not be staying after all. Not much point, since I wouldn’t be able to see Jerry Cunningham to talk about the grant. And hopefully Dimitri and the gang had things under control. I’d find out soon enough.
“More coffee, gents?” I asked. “Harry, you still caffeine-free?”
“Not since rehearsals started. Fill her up, Sully.”
I poured Harry’s, black, and then Stewart’s. I handed him the cream. “How goes it?” I asked.
“Shh, Sully. We went out after rehearsal. For a couple of drinks. Then a couple more.”
I grabbed the Advil and brought it back to the table. “I went out with Emma and had a bit of a headache myself this morning. Then I saw the news.” I told them about the murder. I skipped the part about Babs being out of control at the reception. They were working with her, and I thought she deserved a little privacy, at least from me. They both murmured concern and then went back to their scripts.
“What time is your call?” I asked after a while.
“Not till noon. Thank God. Dimitri is doing some table work with Juliet and the Nurse this morning. Trying to undo some of the damage from Pierre,” Harry said.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“How’s it going … how do you think it’s going, Stewart? From an outside perspective.”
Stewart looked over at Harry and shrugged. He turned toward me. “We’re behind, of course. But it’s a great group. They’ve worked together for a long time. Such are the benefits of a repertory company. I’ve worked with a couple of the actors before.”
“A few of the Bay Rep actors—Ruth, Stephanie, Ray, Tina, Bob—they’ve worked up at the Cliffside several times when Bay Rep is closed for the summer. Are they all in this production?” I asked.
“Yes, Ruth is playing the Nurse. Stephanie is Lady Capulet. Ray is Tybalt. Is that right? Or is he Benvolio now? There were a couple more switches yesterday based on which roles they’d played before. Anyway, having a full cast is great. And Dimitri has rediscovered his footing, despite the set. Still …”
“Still?” I looked at both men. “Still what?”
“Still, I’m surprised they aren’t doing more to accommodate Dimitri regarding the designs,” Harry said. “I sort of get the set issues. But costumes? There should be some give with costumes. I know that budgets are tight, but still.”
“Dimitri and Cassandra were going to talk to Babs yesterday—”
“But she never came back. Holly told them there was no more money, but they all agreed to talk to Babs together. Holly’s on our side, which is great, but—”
“There are no sides in all of this,” I said. “Babs is just trying to watch the budget, make sure the company takes the least amount of a hit it can. Don’t pit Holly against Babs. That’s not good for anyone.”
“Duly noted,” Harry said. “Thanks for reminding us all we’re on the same team. Holly’s in a spot, and I think she could use some help—”
“Babs is the managing director,” I said.
“She’s been gone a lot,” Harry said. “I think that you could help Holly see the bigger picture.”
“I talked to her yesterday, told her to call me.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not going to do that. You know how it is, Sully. Situations like this, the budget gets blown up a little. We were wondering if you could come in and talk with Holly again,” he said as he poured me more coffee.
“Who’s we? Why?”
“Stewart and I brought it up with the cast after Dimitri left with Connie last night. They agree it might be a good idea, especially if Babs isn’t around today. Holly could use some ‘how to deal with Dimitri’ lessons. She just keeps saying no, or that she can’t, and then he yells.”
“I asked him to be quieter—”
“You might as well ask a bird not to sing,” Stewart said. “He isn’t yelling at her, he’s yelling at the situation. But she’s having trouble parsing that under the circumstances. She goes back to the office and cries. And comes back out and pretends she wasn’t crying and says no again. I feel sorry for the woman.”
Dimitri had gone through a number of general managers at the Cliffside before I came aboard. “So you want me to babysit Dimitri?” I said. I felt bad that Holly was taking it so personally. One of the things that made me a good managing director was that yelling didn’t bother me. I’d dealt with far worse in my previous career.
“The yelling fits get in the way of the rehearsal process. Just when we’re getting somewhere, Holly comes in and it’s gone. If you could be a buffer, just for today? And maybe tomorrow unless Babs comes in?”
“What’s in it for me? Aside from having to hear rehearsals of Romeo and Juliet for hours?”
“Come on, Sully, I know you love it. If you insist, I’ll come up with other ways to make it worth your while.” Stewart raised his eyebrows and smiled lasciviously. But the underlying smile was genuine, as was the tone. Ah Stewart. What was the term? Friends with benefits? Not a bad concept. Maybe.
“Promises, promises.” I said, looking away and catching Harry’s amused eye. “You both owe me. But happily for you, I have a lot of grant writing to do, and I can do it at the theater as easily as I can here.”
“One more thing. Please, can we drive? I’ll pay for parking,” Harry said. “And can we hit Trader Joe’s on the way? We need some rehearsal food and Connie is car-free. We need to do our part to bolster the company.”
Getting Stewart and Harry through Trader Joe’s was like herding cats. Such a great variety of junk food that you can pretend is a little good for you. We ended up with a very full cart. As I bagged the groceries, I tried to sort them. I’d stocked up on soy chips and nuts and coffee and other goodies to bring home. I packed a Dimitri bag, and Harry and Stewart grabbed some food for rehearsals. I made a bag for the office staff. I did a quick calorie count of the food in the car and shook my head. My step count was pitiful these days. I really needed to get a walk in, or better yet, a run. I always left a change of clothes in the car in hopes that I would get a work out in during the day. They’d been in the car since September.
We got to the theater around eleven thirty. I could hear Dimitri’s bellows from the lobby. Both Harry and Stewart waved me into the theater, and Stewart patted my butt as I walked by him. Sure enough, Dimitri was holding court at the foot of the stage, lost in a dramatic tirade. Connie tried to interrupt but it was difficult, to say the least. He
’d worked up a full head of steam. Holly was half sitting, half leaning on the armrest of a chair. I had to give her props; she was taking it. But I could also tell that she was struggling, either to get a word in edgewise or not to cry. She was wearing a suit today, but it was a far cry from Babs’s designer piece. More of a Primark or H&M suit. More my kind of suit, frankly.
“I have never, ever had such a lack of support—” Dimitri started.
“Sure you have, Dimitri,” I said, making my way down the aisle. “Remember two summers ago when you wanted to use a trampoline for the set of Twelfth Night? No one thought that was a good idea. We all said no.” I walked over and patted his arm. My version of an embrace. Usually it worked to calm him down.
“Sully, no jokes. This is amateur hour around here, and I’m sick of it.”
“I’m sure Holly is doing her best. Holly, sorry to interrupt. I need Dimitri to look over some grant applications, hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Is Babs in yet? I’d love to say hi.”
“I haven’t seen her yet,” Holly said, standing up.
“Maybe I’ll hang for a bit. Is that okay with you? I’ll just sit in the back.”
“As long as Dimitri doesn’t mind,” she said, sidling over to the door.
“No, he doesn’t mind. He loves having me in the room, don’t you, Dimitri?” Dimitri glared at me, but I didn’t break away from his glaze. The group around us dispersed. Connie winked at me and followed Ron backstage.
“Seriously, Dimitri, do you have a sec?” I asked. “I do want to run a couple of grant things by you.”
“Harrumph.”
“I bought you some orange gel sticks from Trader Joe’s. It’s a little early for candy, I know, but they’re orange. Sort of a breakfast flavor.”
“You know I love those,” Dimitri said, following me to the back of the theater. We both sat down and I handed him his bag.
“I know. I bought several boxes,” I said.
“Bless you.” He took the candy out and opened the top of the box. He took a deep inhale, then closed the lid back up. Dimitri was a sensory person and believed firmly in delayed gratification. He’d have to earn a jelly stick. “All right, ask me your grant questions, Sully. Rehearsal starts at noon.”
I handed him a bottle of water. “I also got you some breakfast bars, almonds, a bag of apples, some string cheese, and this water. Fill the bottle up three times today. You have to eat, Dimitri.”
“Don’t mother me, Sully,” he said, rifling through the bag and finding the breakfast bars. He ripped one open with his teeth. “Thank you,” he said, his mouth half full. “Are you here to babysit?”
“Yes and no. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, but frustrated. We can make two changes that’ll be all the difference. I want Cassandra to change the costume designs. We need color on stage. She ran a dye test, but we feel that dyeing the white clothes will muddy it even more. She wants to build a few pieces and needs a budget for that.”
“What’s the second thing?”
“Ron thinks he has an idea of what we can do to enable us to paint the set. There’s a place down near the Cape that sells sailcloth. We think if he cuts it, and slaps pieces on the shiny white, he can paint them to add more depth to the set. Sailcloth has more texture than muslin and will stand up to wear and tear.”
“And the problem is?”
“Both of these changes cost money. Not huge money, but more money than Holly feels like she can authorize on her own.”
“So you need Babs to be here.”
“In this situation Holly is fairly useless. Apparently this production has been a money pit, and we can’t add any more money into the budget to cover the costs.”
“I just want to remind you, Dimitri, that Holly is in a tough situation. Since you’re a guest director, she’s trying to toe the company line while helping. You need to cut her some slack.”
“Why should I—”
“I heard you made her cry, Dimitri. More than once.”
“I did not.”
“You did. Probably not on purpose, but I expected better. Remember, you’re representing all of us down here. You want us to be known as the thugs from up on the north shore?”
“I cannot be held responsible for someone’s emotional outbursts.”
“You can when you cause them. Step back, Dimitri. How much can you do without affecting the budget? Are you and Cassandra on the same page?”
“We are. We don’t even want period costumes. Just color. Hoping that from chaos she can create a design. We can pull from stock. Rent from other companies. We just need something to start with.”
“So, start. You’re the director. Get Cassandra to figure out a game plan and start. Don’t look for approval. Just do it. And make sure it doesn’t cost anything. At least not at the beginning. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Unless it’s from me. Then you’d better have permission. Seriously, Dimitri, why so nervous? Bay Rep is a big company. An important company. And they asked you to step in because you’re good. So show ’em. Figure this out. But try not to make people cry. Okay?”
“Cassandra has a lot riding on this as well.”
“Her ability to change mid-stream sounds like a great behind-the-scenes story angle, doesn’t it? Don’t they blog here? We can make her out to be the hero. And if it doesn’t work, or people miss the white on white, so be it. You take the hit. Regarding the set fix, let me go talk to Holly. Maybe there’s a way to make it work and I can help her think creatively. How does that sound?”
“I’m going to take a hit on this no matter what,” Dimitri said.
“Or get the glory. Stewart says it’s a great company of actors. He and Harry are pretty excited.”
“Are they?” Dimitri asked.
“Of course they are. They have faith. So do I, for what that’s worth.”
“It’s worth a great deal, Sully.”
“Then don’t sweat the rest of it. Just tell the story. This is a great team, so let them help you. I’ll talk to Holly.”
“You’ll stick around a bit this afternoon? Let me know what you think?”
“Of course. I wasn’t joking about the grant applications. I can just as easily work here. It will mean that I’ll have a computer in the theater.” Computer and cell phone lights in the house were Dimitri’s pet peeves.
“For this, and for you, I will make an exception.” He stood up and stretched. I reached down and handed him the bag of food. He took it and walked up the aisle to the edge of the stage, where several people were standing over a board that had been painted to demonstrate the solution Ron had come up with. Dimitri turned to me and put down the bag. He pointed to the board and put both hands together as if in prayer.
“I’ll do what I can,” I yelled down the aisle.
• Eight •
G iven what happened, we need to assume that the Century Foundation may not be reading grants anytime soon, my development director wrote in an email. My first reaction was disappointed frustration, but then I caught myself. A woman had been murdered and we were worrying about the grant. Send in the application anyway, but here are the other applications you’ve been working on. They look good; I’ve made a few tweaks. I’ve got the board working on making connections at the foundations. Will you have time to look them over today?
I’ll make the time, I emailed back.
She’d attached three applications, ready to be printed out and proofed before they were submitted. I was glad there was a plan B. And C. And D. One way or the other, we needed to get this funding on track if the production center was going to be at least somewhat built by the summer season.
I carried my laptop back to Holly’s office, hoping to borrow a printer. I found Holly at her desk, surrounded by piles of paper. She was staring at the wall in front of her, her shoulde
rs slouched forward.
“Hi, Holly. Sorry to interrupt. I wondered if I could borrow a printer?”
“Um. Sure, I guess so,” she said, straightening up a bit. “Do you want to send me the document and I can do it for you?”
“No thanks. I can just connect to this printer. Is that okay?” I pointed to a LaserJet in the corner. The model was very close to the one I had back in my office, so I was hoping it wouldn’t require any new software. Fortunately, it worked. Unfortunately, each application was several pages long, and the printer was a little slow.
After a minute or so of Holly and I ignoring each other, I thought that I should try and break the ice. She must have had the same thought.
“No, you first,” I said, after we’d done the double talk tango.
“I just wanted to thank you for talking to Dimitri. Harry says that he’ll probably get a little easier to deal with. I mean, well … ”
“Less of a pain is the ass is all I can help you with. Easier won’t happen. That said, Dimitri’s a good guy and a great director. And, I dare say, he’s a little nervous. You guys are a big deal.”
“Yeah, I guess we are. My first paying job in the theater was with Les Pathes. Do you know them?” I nodded. Les Pathes was a company that did interdisciplinary work and toured it. They operated on a small budget and spent long periods between productions raising money and rehearsing. “I loved the company, but it was hard work, and I didn’t love worrying about my bills all the time. I thought it would be so much easier working here, with real budgets and a staff. But it’s just as stressful except on a bigger scale. You know?”
“The Cliffside is my first theater gig, but I can imagine. Are you glad you made the switch?” I could see that she was struggling with the answer, so I let her off the hook. “At least you’re getting lots of great experience. And Babs must be a good mentor.”
I’d always heard good things about Babs Allyn and Bay Rep, but I was beginning to wonder how true they were. Morale seemed low, and this Romeo and Juliet situation would have kept me at the theater, not away from it.
With a Kiss I Die Page 10
