“Not to mention dangerous.”
“When Arden collapsed, what did it look like from the house?”
Delphi tried to recall the scene. “They were singing that insipid duet, and Sousa whirled her around and dipped her backward. Then she kind of kept going down, and he went with her and set her on the ground. Thinking back, it’s obvious she lost consciousness, but it happened so fast I’m not sure we realized it at the time.”
“Did Arden break character at all? Did she look like something might have taken her by surprise? Or did she just go limp?”
“Now that you mention it, she gave Sousa—what’s his name again?”
“Chris.”
“She gave Chris a dirty look at one point. It was quick, a flash of disgust, but it seemed out of character. I’m not sure I’d have noticed, except I was staring at her, trying to decide what about her was enough to make Roman Fried drool all over his notebook.”
“Roman Fried? You mean the New York Post theater columnist?”
“Yeah. I was his plus one.”
“Why would he come all the way up here—and for this?”
“Never got a chance to ask him,” Delphi said. “He ran out as soon as the show was over.”
“To file his copy, no doubt. What a scoop.”
“Until Arden appeared, he most definitely was not a fan of the show.” Delphi frowned. “I hope he’s kind to Isobel. At this point, she’s the main event. He’ll have to mention her.”
Sunil put his arm around her. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re here. You ground her better than anyone. Even Hugh.”
“That’s why you’re glad I’m here? For Isobel?”
He laid a hand on his heart. “I didn’t know you cared.” His expression shifted slightly. “Actually, I really didn’t know you cared.”
Delphi smiled wanly. She’d meant it as a joke, but obviously Sunil was hoping it might be an opening to a conversation she had assiduously avoided.
“You know I’m always happy to see you,” she said lamely.
His eyes searched hers for a moment, and to her relief, he let the matter drop.
“I’m sorry about your job,” he said.
She tugged at the zipper on her backpack. “I’ll find another. No shortage of restaurants in New York City.” She sighed. “Although there’s no shortage of waiters, either.”
“You mean actors,” he said.
“You’ve never had to hold down a survival job, so you don’t get to mock. And don’t launch into your spiel about minority typecasting. You’re playing a nineteenth-century Philadelphia gentleman.”
He cocked his head. “And an Indian chief.”
She was too tired to point out that she felt equally objectified by Carlo grabbing her ass and trying to kiss her, and at least Sunil was being paid to act. Even though he hated being pigeonholed, Sunil worked more often than Isobel and Delphi combined, and it was sometimes hard to be sympathetic.
“Let’s just sit quietly until they get back, okay?” she said.
“That’s something Isobel would never suggest.” He pulled her close. “That’s what I mean. It’s a really good thing you’re here.”
THIRTEEN
FELICITY GESTURED FOR ISOBEL and Hugh to take a seat in the back of the house, where she, Jethro, Ezra, and Kelly were gathered.
“First of all, I want to thank you for being prepared,” Felicity said. “You did an excellent job tonight.”
Isobel felt her chest swell with pride. “Thank you.”
“As I mentioned briefly at intermission, we’d like you to take over the role, but there is one issue we need to address,” Felicity continued. “Arden is—er, was a member of Actors’ Equity. That means we have to replace her with an Equity performer. If you want to continue in the role, you’ll have to join the union.”
Isobel’s mouth dropped open. In all her fantasies about going on for Arden, the possibility of joining the union had never occurred to her. This was an incredible opportunity. The jobs that would open up for her, the auditions she could get into! Most actors knocked around for years before they were able to vanquish the notorious catch-22 that was joining the actors’ union. You had to be cast in an Equity production in order to join the union, but you couldn’t audition for an Equity production unless you were already a union member. Isobel had apparently stumbled onto a top-secret loophole: taking over a union role as a non-union understudy.
“Yes, of course,” Isobel said. “That’s no problem. That’s—great!”
“Wonderful!” Jethro beamed at her.
Hugh tapped her shoulder. “Can I talk to you privately for a moment?”
Isobel whipped her head around, startled. “What?”
He guided her to her feet. “Can you give us a sec?”
Hugh led Isobel down the aisle toward the stage. When they were out of earshot, he spoke softly.
“I know this is exciting for you, but think about it first. Taking an Equity contract gets them out of a tight spot, but it isn’t necessarily the smartest career move for you.”
“How could it be bad?”
“First of all, there’s the initiation fee. It’s over a thousand dollars. Felicity will be paying you a higher salary on an Equity contract, but not that much higher. That’s a considerable expense.”
Isobel swallowed. “I can ask my parents for a loan.”
“But this is the main thing: you’ll be less employable once you join the union.”
Isobel opened her mouth, outraged, but Hugh steamrolled right over her, which was quite unlike him.
“This isn’t about talent. Think about how and why you’re here. Your role was designated non-union in advance. Most regional theaters—summer stock, too—have a limited number of union contracts. The last category they’re going to use them on is young women. There are simply too many of you to choose from. This show is your first solid regional credit. If you jump now and get your card, you’re skipping an important step. You have to build your resume.”
“But think of all the things I can get seen for! That Phantom of the Opera audition where I met you? I wouldn’t have to sit outside the Equity lounge all day on a folding chair hoping for a chance to sing sixteen bars for the casting director while he’s packing up for the day.”
“And the result would be the same. You’d still not get hired,” Hugh said. “As I told you that day, it was a required call. They weren’t really looking. Without an agent getting you appointments, those are the kinds of auditions you’ll be going to. And no agent is going to take you on with only one decent credit.”
Isobel’s temples throbbed. “I can’t believe you, of all people, would try to hold me back. You don’t think I can compete?”
“Darling, you know I think the world of you. I just want you to give this some thought. I know it sounds good—”
“Better than good. It’s the lead in a new musical the Donnelly Group is looking at, and besides”—a triumphant smile crossed her face—“I have to do it. I’m contracted as the understudy.”
“You can step in for three days in an emergency without having to join the union.”
“You mean, let them bring in someone else and go back to playing Emma?”
“Right.”
“But they want me.”
“Of course they do. It’s easier and cheaper for them to keep you in the role. They’d have to find someone else who could learn the show in three days, and that would cost them. I’m telling you, they need you more than you need your Equity card right now.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know so much about Equity regulations?”
“I overheard Kelly and Heather discussing it.” He took Isobel’s hand. “My mum always says never make a big decision without sleeping on it first.”
“But—”
“Do that for me? Take the night. The offer will still be there in the morning. Run it past Delphi and Sunil. See what they think. For once, don’t rush in. Okay?”
&n
bsp; His arguments, valid or not, felt like a betrayal. On the other hand, it was tempting to make Felicity sweat a little. And Isobel had never seen Hugh so insistent. She supposed sleeping on it couldn’t hurt, although she was pretty sure she knew what her answer would be.
“All right.”
He gave her a quick kiss and they rejoined the others, who were arguing heatedly about who should take over as Emma.
“I don’t care, just pick one,” Felicity said.
Ezra scrabbled at his beard. “I can’t pick any of them. Marissa is playing Sousa’s mother and Talia is his sister. They can’t show up in the next scene as his girlfriend.”
“Then grab someone from the ensemble,” Felicity said.
“Who?” Ezra asked. “Remember, we were trying to assemble a believable town? That’s why our ensemble looks like the first ten people we picked up at the DMV.”
Jethro’s voice broke through. “We’ll have to hire someone.”
Felicity shook her head impatiently. “Where are we going to find someone who is available and can learn the show overnight?”
“Delphi!” They all turned to look at Isobel. “My roommate from New York. She looks like a Botticelli, and she’s a phenomenal actress. She does a lot of Shakespeare, so she can memorize complicated text quickly, and this isn’t even complicated.” She darted a look at Jethro. “I mean, it isn’t Shakespeare. It’s only the scenes with Swallow and Sousa and then the maid in act two. I’m sure she could learn those lickety-split, and then you could work her into the ensemble scenes once she’s got those down.”
Hugh let out a nervous chuckle. “It’s a creative idea, but Delphi’s an alto, and from what you’ve told me not a very good one. What about the Emma/Sousa duet?”
His words chilled the air.
Ezra folded his arms. “I’ve made it clear what I think about the duet.”
“I’m not cutting ‘Song of the Sea,’” Jethro said through clenched teeth.
“It slows down the action,” Ezra said. “We don’t spend enough time with Emma to warrant a song.”
Jethro jutted out his chin defensively. “It’s an actual song that Sousa composed to lyrics Emma wrote. It demonstrates their love and helps us understand why he’s crushed when her stepfather blocks the marriage.”
“What if you gave the whole song to Sousa?” Isobel suggested. “She sends him the poem, and he returns it with a melody. It’s his musical love letter to her. It could be just one verse and it wouldn’t slow things down.” She glanced at Ezra. “As much.”
“That’s exactly why it has to be a duet,” Jethro insisted. “It starts as a love letter to her, and she joins in and that’s what makes us think they’re going to wind up together.”
“But they don’t wind up together,” Ezra said, bringing his fist down on the seatback in front of him.
“We’re leading the audience on,” Jethro said. “We’re creating an expectation and then bam—we’re disappointing them.”
“No, you’re boring them,” Ezra returned.
Jethro’s face darkened to a dangerous plum.
Felicity cut in. “How soon could your friend get here?”
“She is here,” Isobel said. “In the lobby. She came up to see the show.”
Felicity stood up. “That settles it. There’s no time to call down a list. We need an actor in place by tomorrow morning.”
“But my duet,” Jethro protested.
Felicity put a staying hand on Jethro’s arm. “We are all going to have to compromise, and if that means a change in the duet, so be it. Perhaps it will turn out to be temporary. But I’m convinced this is the best way. Ezra, I know you were planning to go back to the city tomorrow, but—”
“I’ll stay to put in Isobel and her friend.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s the stage manager’s job once the show is open and frozen.” Jethro glared at Ezra.
“Frozen? This isn’t Broadway, Jethro,” Ezra said. “We’ll adjust as needed to continue to improve your show and make it work. And if we’re putting in not one but two actors, I will stay in Albany and see to it myself.”
“There’s one other thing,” Isobel said. “I haven’t decided yet whether I want to join Equity. I might want to fill in for three days until you can find someone else.”
All eyes turned to Isobel.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Felicity asked icily.
“I don’t necessarily.” Isobel shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I want to sleep on it. That’s all.”
Felicity’s sculpted eyebrows shot up. “Chances to join the union don’t come along every day. Most actors in your position wouldn’t dream of passing this up.”
Isobel gave Hugh a look. “Yes, I know.”
“I expect your answer first thing tomorrow morning,” Felicity said. “Either way, we’d better go hire your friend.”
FOURTEEN
ISOBEL SHOOK A PILLOW into a case and tossed it to Delphi. “You’re sure this is all right?”
“Will you stop? This is fine.” Delphi added the pillow to the pile of sofa cushions on the floor of Isobel’s room and flopped on them. “Why aren’t you and Hugh sharing a room?”
“We talked about it, but he was afraid it would look unprofessional. And to tell you the truth, I wanted my own space. I don’t exactly get that at home. No offense.”
“None taken. But you didn’t argue with him, which is probably what he wanted you to do,” Delphi said shrewdly.
“As you can see, the rooms are only big enough for a twin bed. And a friend on the floor.”
“That’s not the point,” Delphi said.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. It was mutual. Anyway, if you get too uncomfortable, you can put the cushions back on the sofa and sleep in the living room.”
“Or I could kick you out of your bed and make you sleep on the floor.”
Isobel wagged a finger at her. “You have to be nice to me. I just got you a job.”
Delphi pulled a knobbly crocheted blanket to her chin. “I know I’m going to live to regret this. I’ll be in your debt until I cash in my Equity pension. If I ever manage to join the union, that is.”
Isobel had hoped to broach her Equity dilemma at the opening-night party in the café, which went on despite Arden’s death, albeit somewhat subdued. But Hugh had stayed by her side all evening, and she didn’t want his opinion influencing Delphi and Sunil. She’d resigned herself to trying to catch Sunil in the morning, but Delphi had just given her the perfect opening. Before she could frame her question, however, Delphi interrupted her thoughts.
“Say it: you think somebody killed Arden.”
Isobel perched on the edge of the bed. “Yes, I do. And if that’s the case, we’d have to be looking at some kind of poison. There was no obvious wound of any kind.”
Delphi lay back and gazed at the ceiling. “Poison’s tricky. Not always traceable. We may never know for sure.”
“That would make me very nervous.”
“All of this should make everyone very nervous.”
“Unfortunately, it should also make everyone suspect me,” Isobel said. “Between the masking and the note—”
Delphi rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. “What note?”
“Sunil didn’t mention the note?”
“He did not.”
Isobel hopped off the bed and grabbed her jeans from the floor. “I’ll show you—” She stopped, the jeans dangling from her hand. “No, wait, I gave it to Kelly.”
“What did it say?”
“I’d left my script in the house during tech, and somebody drew an arrow pointing to one of Jennie’s highlighted lines and wrote ‘Die, bitch.’” Isobel gave a little hiccup. “And she did.”
“But if it was in your script, it was probably meant for you. Because if you’re covering, you’re Jennie also. In a way.”
“Yeah, but I’m not dead.” She shuddered. “Yet.”
&n
bsp; “I think the police need to know about that note. Do you know what Kelly did with it?”
“She was going to show it to Felicity, but I don’t know if she ever did, given everything.”
“Did Arden have enemies?”
“She was a diva, but what show doesn’t have one of those? Even if she drove us all nuts, I can’t imagine anyone had a reason to kill her.”
Delphi gave her an appraising look. “Except you.”
“Et tu, Delphi?”
Delphi sat up. “Come on, you’re the only one who benefits in an obvious way from her death. You stepped in and saved the day in front of Roman Fried, and now you get to take over her role. Your name will be all over the New York Post tomorrow.”
“But I had no idea he would be here!”
“No, but you knew there were going to be producers in the audience.”
Isobel threw up her hands. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“Yours, of course. But objectively speaking, it doesn’t look so good.”
“It’s even worse than you think.” Isobel plopped back down moodily on her bed, which responded with an extended creak of disapproval. “Arden’s on an Equity contract, which means her role has to go to an Equity actor.”
“Does that mean you don’t get the part?”
“It means I have to join Equity.”
“What?” Delphi clapped excitedly. “That’s amazing. Oh my God, I’m so jealous!”
“Now that’s the reaction I was looking for.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hugh doesn’t think I should do it. I can fill in for three days without joining while they find someone else. He thinks I need to keep building my resume. He says I don’t have enough credits yet to be competitive.” She felt a tear form in the corner of her eye.
Delphi pulled a wayward curl and let it spring back into place. “He’s not wrong. But if it were me, I’d take it and hope for the best. What does Sunil think?”
“Haven’t told him yet.”
“You’re right, though. If it turns out Arden was murdered, it’ll totally look like you killed her to get your Equity card.”
Offed Stage Left Page 8
