Wicked Stage

by Michelle Dayton

  She shrugged. “But the Grace Kelly version of the female lead is so vapid and passive. She’s in the dark the whole time. She never has a clue that her husband is the one who tried to kill her and then framed her for murder. It’s all up to the policeman and her lover to prove her innocence. At least in the Gwyneth version, she figures everything out herself and then kills the jerk in the end.”

  Adam laughed. “There’s my bloodthirsty woman.”

  She looked at Adam appraisingly. “The Tony Wendice character is the best one in the play though. It’s not often that the villain is also the lead. I like all the different masks he has to wear and the different ways the audience sees him as the story progresses. First, he’s the sympathetic cuckhold, then he’s a charming liar who convinces a crook to murder his wife for her money. Then he’s back to being the perfect husband, then he frantically has to cover his attempted-murder-tracks when everything goes wrong...it’s a lot to work with.”

  Adam nodded and grimaced. “It’s like learning four characters instead of one though.”

  Jess laughed. “I’ve seen you do four characters in the space of an hour,” she reminded him. “It’s only one day. Just don’t have Webb eliminate you before you ask his daughter about the ring. As soon as you do, you can flub lines and get the hell out of there.”

  * * *

  Once the shock of the situation wore off, Adam embraced the plan with relish. On the morning of the auditions, he wasn’t even nervous. He was in riskier situations on just about every other job he worked. All he had to do today was act like an actor, schmooze with some self-involved celebrities and talk to his mark.

  Per instructions, at 9:00 am promptly, he showed his brand-new Nathan Hale identity to a security guard at the side entrance of the theatre. A harried woman with a clipboard checked his name off a list and then escorted him to a row in the back left of the theatre. Five other tall men with dark hair glanced up at him with expressions ranging from friendly interest to active hostility. The other Wendice-understudy candidates, he presumed.

  “Morning,” he said. The other men gave him nods before returning to their phones or scripts. Adam contemplated a last-minute review himself but decided against it. When the screeners called, they told him which scenes to prepare for, and he knew the lines by now. His memory had always been one of his best assets. Instead, he turned his head to get the lay of the land.

  The clipboard woman was clearly seating the understudy candidates by role. It was pretty easy to figure out who was who. Across the theatre’s main aisle, five blonde women sat in a row. The Margot Wendice understudy candidates, obviously, as there was only one female role in the production. A few rows up from them sat a bunch of shorter, sandy-haired men. Adam presumed they were there as understudies for the role of Mark Halliday, Margot’s lover. Directly in front of them sat a row of skinny men with black hair. They would be there for the Swann role, the murderer-for-hire, the one the Margot character kills in self-defense. And finally, in a few rows ahead of Adam, sat a group of gray-haired men. They’d be the Chief Inspector Hubbard understudies.

  The room was mostly silent as the last strays filed in. “All the understudy applicants are here,” the clipboard woman announced from the side of the theatre. “The applicants for the minor policeman parts are in the lobby. Director Webb will be here in a moment to introduce himself and the actors in the lead roles. Then he’ll go to the lobby to fill the minor roles and you’ll have rehearsal time amongst yourselves before we begin to call in small groups of you.”

  She reminded them of the first audition scene. For Adam, it would be Act I, Scene 2, in which Wendice convinces Swann to murder his wife. Whoever didn’t get cut in that audition round would perform Act II, Scene 2 where Wendice returns home to find his wife unexpectedly very much alive.

  The curtain opened and seven people appeared up on the stage.

  Adam recognized Webb immediately. He stood front and center, his chin lifted proudly as he scanned the audience. In his sixties, he was a tall man with great posture. Dark hair with gray temples. A slightly hawkish nose that would have looked wrong on most other faces, but it enhanced the handsome severity of his own. Webb had been a successful actor for decades before turning to directing. In movie roles, he was more likely to be a character actor than leading man. But on the stage, he’d been the hero of more West End plays than anyone else in the `80s and `90s. His career as a stage director had been somewhat less successful, but he’d had at least two Golden Globe nominations for films.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Without any sort of amplifying device, his voice carried and filled the entire theatre. “I hope you know what a privilege it is for all of you to be here this morning. You were chosen from thousands of applicants. Even though it’s unlikely that any of you will actually end up performing in our charity event, you’ll still get the opportunity to work with myself and these formidable actors up here.” Adam clapped enthusiastically along with everyone else, but sheesh. Apparently Sir Webb’s reputation as a self-important dickhead was spot-on.

  “Let’s start with some introductions,” Webb continued. “Our Tony Wendice will be played by Tyler Ryan.” The Hollywood actor with blinding white teeth stepped forward and waved at everyone. Adam had seen him in a few forgettable action movies and rom-coms. It was an interesting choice for Wendice as he didn’t think Ryan had much range aside from being generically charming. But he was fairly famous and would be a box office draw, and it was a charity event, after all.

  “Margot Wendice will be played by the incomparable Olive Summers.” A short blonde woman in her thirties stepped forward and took a little curtsy. Adam hadn’t heard of Olive Summers before the job started but he now knew that she was a long-time veteran of the West End. He thought that she was an odd pairing with Tyler Ryan, but he supposed that Webb was trying to get both film and stage enthusiasts interested in the show.

  Adam tuned out Webb’s introductions for the remaining roles because he noticed there was an extra person on the stage. A tall, skinny blonde girl with her face down in her phone—Webb’s daughter. “Finally, I want to introduce my daughter, Katrina,” Webb finished.

  She looked up from her phone and gave the most patronizing wave Adam had ever seen from a teenager.

  “Go on down to your group, Kat,” Webb instructed.

  Katrina jumped off the stage and sauntered over to the group of Margot Wendice understudy applicants. She gave them a little smirk and sat on the aisle seat.

  Adam had to give all the women credit for their acting abilities. Having just learned that the director’s daughter was their competition, not one of them looked upset or pissed. They all just smiled and nodded to her. But he did notice some shoulder slumps and fisted hands.

  It was clearly unfair, but Adam wanted to cheer. The second audition scene was between Wendice and Margot. If he was pulled into a group to read with Katrina, their whole necessary conversation should come together nicely; he wouldn’t need to make an excuse to talk to her (and possibly arouse Daddy’s suspicions) at all.

  The lead actors called out some encouragement and then disappeared backstage. Webb strode down the center aisle, ostensibly headed for the lobby where he would vet the actors for the minor roles. Adam sent Jess a so far, so good text and received a Knock `em dead, gorgeous message in return.

  “Why isn’t there a camera crew filming us?” the guy next to Adam whined. “I doubt I’ll make it past the first cut, but I thought I might at least get some television exposure out of it.”

  “No luck,” another Wendice piped up. “Webb originally wanted some TV network to film a sort of reality miniseries around the whole event, but none of them were interested in his proposal. So then he hired his own film crew and production company, thinking they could create the content and sell it to a network once it was done.” He snorted. “But he fired that crew yesterday. Apparently th
ere was an issue of—” he cleared his throat dramatically “—creative control. He wasn’t happy with the footage they showed him of the first couple days of preparations with the lead actors.”

  “Because they had the audacity to actually capture him looking like an arsehole, I bet,” the first Wendice said. “Everyone I know who has worked under him said he’s a total wanker. But that’s not his public image at all. I’m sure he didn’t want the world-at-large to see footage of him calling an actress fat or something.”

  Adam wanted to let out another cheer. The possibility of cameras had been a huge deterrent. Since his long-term job security relied on anonymity, he was well-practiced at avoiding cameras. But there wouldn’t have been much he could do if Webb’s hired crew had one in his face while auditioning.

  He sent Jess another text: Good news! Webb fired most recent production company for being too scrupulous about what they filmed. No cameras!

  The woman with the clipboard reappeared. “We’re ready for the first scene. Listen for your name and location.” Adam smiled. He was ready.

  Chapter Five

  It only took twenty minutes of rehearsing for Adam to determine the quality Wendices and Swanns. They practiced the scene in different pairs amongst themselves, running lines and doing rudimentary blocking. Everyone was a serviceable actor, but there were two Swanns who nailed the character’s inherent shiftiness much better than the others. And two Wendices who managed the mercurial nuances in the character.

  He was one of them.

  He might have thought he was being overconfident if the other top Wendice hadn’t given him a respectful nod and small, acknowledging smile. “That was well done,” he remarked on Adam’s last rehearsal. “I’m James.”

  Adam returned the smile. “Nate.”

  When Webb arrived, the auditions began in earnest. Each Wendice was paired with a Swann and they ran through the scene. “I’ll watch all of you twice and then make the first cut,” he warned.

  But after the first run-through, he’d had enough. “I don’t know what my screening team was thinking,” he fumed. “Most of you were absolute shit.” Without further ado, he cut three Wendices and three Swanns.

  As expected, Adam and James were the last Wendices standing. The clipboard woman led them to the stage for the second scene. “There’s two Margots left as well,” she said. “Practice with them and Webb will be in shortly.”

  Not surprisingly, Katrina Webb was one of the Margot finalists. The other was at least ten years older and had a resigned “let’s just get this over with” expression on her face. But she gamely picked up her script when the men approached. “Greetings, gents. I’m Sylvie. Would one of you like to read with me?”

  Adam hesitated on purpose, sensing correctly that James would be gentlemanly and say, “Of course.”

  Now he could have his moment with Webb’s daughter. He gave the rehearsing couple the stage and walked over to stand next to Katrina. As before, her face was turned down toward her phone, her thumbs moving at lightning speed.

  “How’d your last scene go?” he asked.

  “Fine.” She didn’t even look up. Given what he’d seen of Webb’s personality so far, perhaps the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree.

  Trying a new tactic, he paused for a moment and watched James and Sylvie negotiate the scene. “She’s really good,” he said truthfully, his tone impressed.

  That got Katrina’s attention. She looked up and watched the other actress for a long minute with a stone face. Aha, Adam thought. Not 100% sure of yourself, are you kid?

  Now for some flattery. “You were great in 23rd District,” he said. “I see a ton of indie films, but your performance in that one really stood out.”

  She looked at him for the first time, and he took advantage of her glance and gave her his best smile. Jess sarcastically called it “The Dazzler.” Katrina blinked. “Thanks.”

  Progress. He shifted his weight, feigning embarrassment. “I’m afraid I’m a bit of a fan of yours, actually. I read somewhere you’re filming in Germany right now? How’s that going?”

  She shrugged. “I was disappointed by a lot of the cast. Total amateur hour.”

  He laughed in feigned sympathy but sort of wanted to shake her. If memory served, she’d been acting just over a year herself.

  “But we wrapped yesterday, so I don’t have to deal with it anymore,” she finished.

  Just in time for Daddy’s play, he thought, feeling sorry for all the cast who would have to suffer through her entitled attitude during the next three weeks.

  Time to ooze the charm. “Forgive me if this seems silly,” he said, “but I saw the most gorgeous picture of you at a premiere a couple weeks ago. You were wearing a bright blue gown, and you looked like a young Kate Moss.”

  She smiled hugely now, apparently quite pleased to be compared to a supermodel. “Thanks. I do like blue.”

  He widened his eyes for effect. “Your jewelry was incredible too, especially that ring. I’d never seen anything like it. Do you know where your stylist got it? She must be really talented to be able to create looks like that. Can you give me her number?”

  As expected, the happy look on her face dimmed somewhat. “My stylist had nothing to do with it,” she informed him frostily. “It’s a family heirloom. It’s called the Bulgarian Blue—it’s one of a kind in, like, the entire world. My dad let me wear it for the evening. I don’t wear crappy trendy stuff that my stylist chooses.”

  “Oh, of course not.” He flattered her some more until she was smiling again, but he was barely aware of the words leaving his lips. In fact, he almost felt nauseated. Clearly, somewhere inside he’d been hoping it was a knock-off and when she confirmed it, they could walk away from this whole thing.

  For a moment, he considered lying to Tony. Telling him that her ring had been nothing more than a clever imitation. But he dismissed the idea right away. He was a damned good liar—except to the man who raised him. Tony would pretend to believe him and then go and try to take it on his own.

  Anyway, he had what he needed from the day. He could just sneak out now.

  He was halfway backstage when clipboard woman ran after him. “Webb’s ready for you. Go ahead and do the scene with Katrina.”

  He heard Webb bellowing from the stage. “Let’s make this quick, people. I have a call with a broadcasting company in half an hour.”

  Ugh. Oh well. Leaving now would make him much more memorable than poorly delivering some lines and getting cut. He pasted a smile on his face and took center stage with the brat.

  He delivered his lines woodenly, earning a WTF expression from James, who clearly wondered what happened to his acting skills within the last thirty minutes. Not that Katrina was doing much better. She played Margot as a one-note character, and that note was innocence. She was all wide-eyed and clingy, begging for help. There were no undertones of unease or distrust that would have made the character more realistic and interesting. He certainly hoped Olive Summers didn’t get sick on the night of the performance or the audience was going to watch a lot of irritating hand-wringing.

  “Next,” Webb called.

  James and Sylvie ran through the same scene, except they did it a thousand times better. Adam checked the time. A few more minutes and he could get home to Jess and talk it all through. He loved going home to her, whether he’d worked a full day or if he’d run to the corner store for milk. Like Tony when he was a boy, Jess was now his home incarnate.

  When James and Sylvie were done, Webb asked James to come up and re-read the scene with Katrina.

  “Narrowing in on his final two,” Sylvie commented wryly from his side.

  “You’re much better,” Adam said. “I’m sorry.”

  Sylvie sighed. “Ah well. At least I beat out the other four. That’s something. And I
got to meet Olive Summers in the loo. Not a total waste of the day.”

  James and Katrina finished the scene and joined them at the side of the stage, while Webb conferred with clipboard woman.

  Katrina raised her eyes to James’s face. “How’d I do?” Her expectant tone made it obvious she was anticipating a complimentary response.

  “Not bad,” James said carefully. “Next time though, maybe try it as though you’re not quite sure if I’m telling the truth...maybe I’m your faithful husband or maybe I’m a bit dodgy...do you know what I mean?”

  Katrina’s face darkened like a thundercloud. If only she could do that on cue, Adam thought. That would be a talent.

  Without another word, she turned her back on their small group and started texting.

  Spoiled, spoiled brat. Sylvie and James each rolled their eyes to the ceiling.

  Turns out, he didn’t know the half of it. As Webb and clipboard woman came toward them across the stage, Webb already had an imperious arm outstretched, pointing to Katrina and James. But then his cell phone dinged. He pulled it out of his pocket and read something on the screen. Although his actor’s face didn’t change, he looked up and glanced between Katrina, James and Adam. Then he dropped his arm so that it was no longer pointing at James.

  Oh. Shit.

  “I’ve made my decision,” Webb announced slowly. “The Margot understudy will be Katrina. The Wendice understudy will be...” He looked at Adam, clearly unimpressed. “You.”

  * * *

  “I’ll just call and tell them I have another commitment,” Adam said, pacing around the small hotel room. “I’m sure James would be happy to jump back in.”

  Jess sat on the bed, her feet tucked under her lap. She was repressing laughter; Adam was almost never this genuinely surprised by a turn of events and it was fun to see him so nonplussed. But his surprise was clouding his judgment. “So why didn’t you just say no on the spot?”

  He stopped pacing and looked out the window. They had a spectacular view of the London Eye, the giant Ferris wheel on the South Bank of the River Thames. “It would have been odd. Memorable.”