The song ended. The band started another waltz. Rafe pulled away. Hank Humble, the twin playing Billy Joe Bob Travis, stood behind him, tapping his shoulder.
“Mind if I cut in?”
Rafe allowed the strapping redhead to lead me off to the strains of Blake Shelton’s “All About Tonight.” Hank was not the dancer Rafe was. Hell, Hank wasn't even the dancer Jedidiah was. At rehearsals I'd been trying to teach Hank and his brother Ham their dance numbers, but had had little success. Both of them had huge feet and both of those feet were left. Since they were twins, that made a total of four left feet stuck on the bottoms of Howdy Doody look-alikes standing at pro basketball-player heights. More than once I'd shut my eyes to avoid witnessing what was bound to be a painful descent into the orchestra pit following a crash into a gaming table or another cast member.
As I was musing about the klutziness of the man, his clone appeared and whisked me off with him. I looked way, way up into Ham Humble's grinning countenance. “Do you guys ever go anywhere without each other?”
Ham considered his answer quite seriously for at least a minute. “No. I think last time we weren't together was about six months ago. Hank had to take off work to drive Daddy to the hospital. I had to stay.”
“Y’all work together, too?”
“Sure. Humble Home, Hunting, and Hardware. Been in the family for generations back in San Augustine. Hank and I opened a branch in Dallas when we decided we wanted to work in theatre, too. We've turned it more into a contracting business than a store. Gives us less regular hours so we can act.”
I was trying to assimilate this picture of the Humble twins playing contractor in their spare time, while gracing the stages of Dallas theatres, when Rafe took over again.
“Theo, Lindsay, Amber, and Macy just arrived. Check it out.”
I did. He was right. He then acknowledged that this cast get-together might be partially his fault. “Originally started out as the Humbles and me. We grabbed some dinner after rehearsal today and talked about meeting up here later to unwind. They got on the phone after that. By the way, did you know no one has your number?”
I wondered if this was a sneaky way of asking for it. Then he spun me out again. I couldn't have answered if I'd wanted to.
I spent the rest of the evening with the group from Bad Business. I hadn't planned on seeing these people quite so soon after rehearsal, but it turned out to be fun. Often the best way for a company to bond and truly form an ensemble is to forget the show and party together. I looked around the table and wondered how hard Hank and Ham had tried to contact Jason Sharkey. Or Daisy. The surprise of the evening came when a tiny figure dressed in a yellow rhinestone-studded shirt and tight black jeans approached our table.
“Mind if I join y'all? Seen ya from the other side of the ballroom and you looked like you was havin' a damn good time.”
Rafe pulled out a chair as Thelma Lou thanked him, then jumped into theatre talk without preamble. “Did you kids know you were gettin' some more visitors tomorrow afternoon?”
We looked at the lady with some trepidation. Billie Boone's additions had proved welcome, but we weren't sure we wanted to endure more changes before this melodrama opened. Amber seemed distressed. “Who's coming?”
“The rest of the original cast of Bad Business.”
I glanced at Thelma Lou. “What gives? I thought they weren't due 'til opening night.”
“Right before Lida Rose left the theatre this afternoon, she got a call from Fran Watkins. Seems Miz Watkins has been talkin’ to the other folks and they're all excited about seeing the show in rehearsals. She didn't so much as ask Lida Rose, as tell her they was comin’. In a clump.”
Hank muttered, “Sounds like a seniors’ field trip.”
We all chuckled at the image of a minibus pulling up to the theatre to let a troupe of camera-toting elderly tourists out to roam the grounds.
Thelma Lou added, “Don't know if you know, but Miz Watkins and Miz Kincaid are the owners of East Ellum. Lida Rose didn't have much choice. They wanted things their way.”
I snorted. “Our Lida Rose? Hell, the crazier rehearsals are, the happier she is. She'll have them on stage with us showing us how it was originally done within their first five minutes inside the East Ellum Theatre. I'm kind of amazed she hasn't double-cast Bad Business with some of the originals still around.”
The instant I said it, I had a premonition that indeed the old cast members might end up precisely there. And that could very well bode nothing but trouble for all concerned.
Nods. They'd all worked with Lida Rose on productions, and Theo, the only one who hadn't, had seen enough to be convinced he was dealing with a serious, shall we politely say, eccentric.
Rafe seemed pensive. I threw a piece of popcorn at him. He popped it in his mouth and chewed. I threw another.
“What?”
“What do you mean, what?” he responded.
I hate it when someone answers a question with a question. Fine. I'd do the same. “Care to share?”
Rafe blew out a long breath of air. “I'm really wondering how bringing in all these people will change the dynamic at the theatre. This could easily raise tension to an uncomfortable level. And let's face it, there's somewhat of a strain there now.”
Macy didn’t buy it. “Why? It's a bunch of old people coming in to feel like they're part of things again. I'll bet most of them haven't been on a stage in years. So they sit and watch and . . . really . . . what's the problem?”
Rafe stared up into the rafters of Sweet Ruby's. “Think about it. We're already nuts with extra scenes and songs. And now we're about to be rehearsing in front of the person who might well have been responsible for sending Don Mueller to an early grave.”
Chapter 10
I'd planned on sleeping in very late after my night of revelry at Sweet Ruby's, but my companion had other ideas. Seven a.m. on the nose was the wake-up call. I say on the nose, because that's where the contact was made—nose-to-nose. I opened my eyes to find Jedidiah's cross-eyed adoring gaze and wet snout inches from my face. Having gotten to sleep only three hours ago, I wasn't really in any mood to get up. Jed, however, had an anxious look that told me I'd better have the leash on and be out the door within the next five minutes or I'd have a mop job on my hands.
Dog-walking chores dispensed with, I was about to head back to bed when the phone rang.
“Yo?”
“Kiely? You awake, up, and around?”
It was a debatable issue since I'd been around the block with the dog but hadn't had coffee. I decided to cut Lida Rose a break.
“Pretty much. Why are you calling at the ungodly hour of eight?”
“Field trip. I want to go visit Joe Hernandez. And I know you've wanted to see him, so I thought I'd be nice and give you a ride. We never manage later in the day, what with rehearsals and all.”
“Where are you?”
“Turning off Central onto Bennett.”
I groaned. The woman was at the most thirty seconds from the apartment. I heard the squeal of brakes in the road. She’d lied. She was already in the driveway.
I sighed as she bounded up the stairs leading to my back door.
“Do I get to shower or anything, oh chauffeur mine? I partied last night. I'm pretty ripe here.”
“I know. About the partying. Not about you being ripe—although you do have a scent of Eau de Tequila about you.”
Lida Rose dug into her bag and pulled out six miniature chocolate bars. She gave me one that was nut-filled, and then popped a dark chocolate morsel into her mouth. It inhibited the clarity of her voice but not the intensity of her interrogation.
“How was Sweet Ruby's last night? Good band? ‘Hog Heaven’? Did you have fun?”
I stared at her. “How did you know I was at Sweet Ruby's? I didn't even know I was going myself until ten last night when I found the place listed in the Guide.”
She brushed this off. “We always go to Sweet Ruby's. Why do yo
u think I didn't invite you to come with George and me last night? You'd've been stuck with two old couples instead of partying with the rest of the kids.”
“I still don't see how . . . “
I stopped. Pointless to ask. Even if she'd been sure I'd be bored sitting alone at the apartment last night, she had no way of knowing I'd end up at the Dallas theatre crowd hangout. She smiled at me like a cherub waiting for St. Peter to applaud her last mission. She poked another miniature chocolate bar (krispy this time) into my hand. “You and Rafe seem to be getting along rather well.”
“Don't start with me, you meddling psychic witch. I'll have you know that I danced with all the men from the cast who happened to be at Sweet Ruby's. Which is why my toes and shin are bruised purple today. I’m tellin’ ya, those Humble brothers are the most terpsichorean-challenged beings I've come across since I had to teach Fred Myers to Charleston in Grand Hotel. Remember me telling you about him? He had the rhythm of a squirrel dodging a pickup truck.”
I was about to continue my tirade when Lida Rose put a chocolate-scented hand over my mouth, leaving a trail of chocolate across my chin.
“Get that hand away from my face, L.R! What do you want, anyway? I'm going to take a shower now, so you can simply wait 'til I'm through to tell me what devious schemes you're devising.”
“You're avoiding the subject.”
I turned on the water, but continued to yell at Lida Rose. “I am not. I was talking about dancing with the guys. By the way, Rafe danced with all the girls who were there last night, too. Assuming you can call Thelma Lou a girl at age ninety-something. Lindsay is nuts about Theo. But I think Macy may like Rafe, too. Especially if Jason is going after Daisy. Or Amber.”
Lida Rose began making choking sounds. I stuck my head out from behind the shower curtain. “Are you okay? Do I need to Heimlich you?”
Her eyes were filled with tears but she managed to gasp out, “No!” I returned to my shampoo bottle in time to hear her say, “Macy and Rafe? Don't think so, honey. She's still dating Jason and he her. Hmmm. Is that 'him her'?”
I brushed aside the grammatical concerns and called out, “I thought Jason had dumped her for Daisy. I figured that's why she was there in all her heavily painted glory last night batting her lashes at Rafe. Incidentally, I want the brand of her mascara. Not a flake, smear, smudge, or part.”
“She's married, you know.”
“Daisy?”
“No. Macy. We were talking about Macy, remember? You got sidetracked on eye makeup.”
I stepped out of the shower, grabbed a giant bath sheet, wrapped it around me and shook my head at my friend. “You're kidding, right? About Macy being married? Hell, she's barely eighteen.” I choked out.
“You okay? Can you breathe?”
I nodded and began drying my hair. Lida Rose's voice bellowed above the eighteen hundred watts of hot air.
“She's spent five years of wedded discord with an idiot named Stan or Steve or Stu or some kind of name that starts with an St. And she's actually twenty-four.”
“Damn. Well, shut my mouth and take me for a fool. The way she and Jason had been acting I thought their next step would be hip surgery to attach themselves permanently. Until he started paying attention to Amber. And then to Daisy. Does Jason know Macy's married? Is that why he's flirting with the piano player and the ingénue?”
Lida threw me a look of sheer pity. “Kiely, my sweet Irish innocent, you are the most naive female I've ever known outside of a convent in Uzbekistan. Of course Jason knows. That's why he's been chasing her as much as she's chasing him. Haven't you wondered why he's not been hotly pursuing you? Lindsay doesn't count since she's the wrong color for our white supremacist jerk. Jason likes 'em married. I don't know if it's the challenge or the danger of being caught, but that's been his M.O. since I've known him, and I've done a good four shows with the man. He's had affairs with at least twelve women I know of and every one of them has been married.”
I sank weakly back against the bathroom vanity. Lida Rose patted my cheek, then handed me my mascara. “Kiely Davlin. You've lived in Manhattan for what, nine years or so? You've toured around the country doing four different musicals. You've been engaged at least three times since I've known you and you have somehow retained this amazing belief that adultery and sin don't exist. The nuns would be proud of you. Even if you do play a great slut.”
She smiled then. It was an evil smile. “You and Rafe are so perfect for each other.”
“Where is that coming from? Because I don't date married men and he doesn't date married women? And don't say ‘perfect’ around me again or I'll swat you.” I paused. “Why is he perfect?”
“Because he's Mister Clean and Pure. Exactly like you, only I guess you get the Miss prefix. I'm surprised the good brothers at Notre Dame didn't manage to press him into the priesthood.”
I calmly applied the rest of my makeup and mumbled back at her, “I wonder exactly how clean and pure he is. Did you know he's been prowling around the theatre at all hours, poking about into—well—everything. There's something fishy there. He's always got some excuse so stupid I feel like I need to believe him, but I'm telling you, all is not kosher.”
Lida Rose waved her hand in the air. “He's helpful. Kiely, you know I'm a wonderful judge of character. So is my dear husband. He was Rafe's history teacher years ago when George taught at Jesuit. He says Rafe has always been beyond smart, and a good person, too. I adore Mr. Montez. And if you'd quit being such a stubborn, pigheaded dunce out of some notion of showing me my matchmaking talents are out of whack, well, you'd adore him, too. So. You ready to go visit Joe? You look gorgeous. Joe will be so pleased. Assuming he's conscious.”
I've been lucky enough in all my years of dancing never to have sustained an injury requiring hospitalization. I break a toe now and then, tear a tendon, sprain an ankle, but all those mishaps usually mean trips to the podiatrist or a sports medicine center. I hadn't actually been inside a hospital since my sister-in-law, Katie, gave birth to my nephew about five years ago.
Maternity wards are fun. Smiles generally grace the visages of those visiting new mamas and cheery chatter can be heard up and down halls and coming from inside rooms.
Not so the private and semi-private rooms for the ill and injured. Lida Rose and I were both wearing rubber-soled sandals and neither of us is a heavy walker, yet I could hear our footsteps echoing down the bright white corridor as though we were the entire chorus tapping the closing number from 42nd Street. A grim-faced nurse receptionist, who'd reluctantly told us on which floor and in which room Joe Hernandez was currently residing, glared at the two of us in our pastel sundresses.
“I thought she was going to ask us to don an insulated suit or something. Damn, L. R. How can Joe recover in this place? The tension alone would send me into a coma or begging for a transfer to the psych ward!”
I was about to expound further on my distaste for the entire wing of the building and its wardens when my mouth literally dropped to my chest. I poked Lida Rose in her ribs. “Oh my Great-Aunt Hermione! What in holy hell?”
We stared at the apparition floating down the hallway toward us.
“It's the Mummy! Returning. Reincarnated. Reanimated. Or perhaps the Dread Pirate Roberts come to open the gates to the castle.”
Whatever it was, it was wrapped in a full-body cast. Arms extended like a cross. Feet, encased in plaster, had been planted firmly atop some sort of rolling platform. Wrapped gauze bandages neatly hid whatever visage might be below them. Atop the head was a cap. The letters spelled out “Notre Dame.”
I pounded on the wall next to me, trying to stop my laughter. Futile. Lida Rose joined me. A familiar voice echoed down the corridor. “Don't you two know it's not nice to make fun of the walking wounded?”
“Rafe? What are you doing here?”
Mr. Montez peeked out from behind the moving statue. “Taking Cousin Joe here out for his daily stroll. What's it look like?”
&n
bsp; Before I could answer, a mouth nearly hidden behind the gauze moved. “Kiely Davlin? Is that you? Rafe told me you were in town. I can't believe the two of you hadn't met before this, as many times as you've been in every restaurant I ever worked in and him popping in whenever he was in town, too.”
I helped Lida Rose to her feet before racing down the hall to greet the mummy. “Joe Hernandez. It is you, isn't it? Hard to tell in that Halloween getup.”
Brown eyes twinkled at me. Those were intact. “Halloween getup, huh? I'm sure the docs who patched me up would be pleased to hear their work has not gone unnoticed.”
How it could have escaped my notice that Joe and Rafe were indeed related amazed me. The same speech pattern. The same rich, darkly colored hair. Not that I could see Joe's today under the rolls of white cloth and the college logo cap.
Rafe interrupted our reunion with, “I'm wheeling him down to what is euphemistically called the sun room. Figured if a crowd showed up we'd be less likely to attract attention. By the way, do y'all like the hat?”
“Your gift, I suppose?” I asked.
Rafe nodded gleefully as Lida Rose and I followed the men down the hall to a fairly large room that boasted three windows and two plants. Since this is Dallas, the sun was indeed shining through the glass. Rafe found a spot close enough to the window for Joe to be able to see outside but not be in direct sunlight. I imagined our plaster-cast-dressed cook might be feeling more than a bit warm inside that shell.
The four of us chatted for a few minutes about how great the East Ellum neighborhood would be once the theatre was up and running again, and how El Diablo's business should soar. After Joe had made the comment that he was so proud of Christa and his staff for keeping the restaurant going, I jumped in with both feet.
Ghosts, Wandering Here and There Page 8
