by Dee, Bonnie
“Where are you going?” Elena asked as she passed him again.
“Outside.”
He exited through the rear door into the alley. The air was cool and fresh, except for the scent of garbage occasionally wafting from the dumpster and cigarette smoke from Bill lounging against the wall of the building.
“Hey. What’s up? Is it time?” Bill asked.
“Almost.”
“Nervous?”
Michael shrugged.
Bill offered his pack of cigarettes.
“No, thanks.” Michael walked to the mouth of the alley and stared down the street at the garish, neon lights marking restaurants and businesses. There was a queue outside a couple of currently trendy restaurants. The sidewalk was filled with people. He wondered if any of them were on their way to see the show. It occurred to him how easy it would be to simply walk away, become part of the crowd and fade into the night. The idea was appealing.
Phil Pender’s voice giving a pre-show speech intended to pump them up ran on a repeating loop in his head.
“The producers wanted to build this show around a couple of big name actors, but I knew it would be a mistake. This story is yours—young people struggling to make their way in the world, finding out who they are, who they want to be. I chose each of you for something unique you brought to your character, and each of you has brought an exciting energy to Transitions. You’ve proven to me my intuition that a ‘no-name’ cast was the right approach. Tonight you’ll prove it to an audience, and I’m sure both the audience and critics will recognize the superior show we’ve created. I’m proud of you all.”
“Proud” wasn’t something Michael was used to hearing. He could deal with being a disappointment. Coming from the family he did, he’d grown used to the feeling. Pender’s expectations seemed like a heavy burden. What if he couldn’t measure up? What if he was a total, fucking flop tonight and dragged the entire show down with him? What if his father’s estimation of him being a failure was right?
Blowing out a long breath, he sucked in another, redolent of garlic from a nearby Italian restaurant. He walked back down the alley toward Bill. “Come on. Let’s do it.”
Bill tossed his cigarette and ground it underfoot.
“You know you’re going to wreck your voice if you keep smoking those things.”
“I’m aware,” Bill said. “One step at a time, my therapist says. Anyway, I’m down to, like, three a day. That’s pretty good.”
Michael knew Bill smoked easily half a pack a day, but kept his mouth shut. He opened the door and the two men entered the building.
The Green Room was empty except for Austen, the stage manager’s assistant, looking a little frazzled. “Come on, you guys. Places! This isn’t a high school production. It’s unprofessional to make me have to come looking for you.”
“Yes, boss. Sorry,” Michael said.
“Everyone’s on, Kurt.” Austen spoke into his headset to the stage manager, Kurt Peters.
On stage, Michael faced the false window and listened to the steady murmur of the audience on the other side of the curtain. His pulse beat steadily. His senses sharpened as adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream, electrifying every cell in his body. It was like being hopped up on speed; euphoria and anxiety mixed in a heady cocktail.
The overture started. He breathed slowly in and out, lightly clenching and unclenching his fingers, waiting to begin. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he glanced at Gretchen, who stood nearest him. Her pale hair caught and reflected the ambient light. Michael smiled at her and, in the darkness, saw an answering flash of white teeth.
The overture ended and Terry played the opening bars of “We Are All” on his keyboard as the curtains opened and the spotlight hit Elena.
Michael burned with suppressed energy, and when his verse came, the energy rocketed through him, exploding into sound. As he sang the familiar words and moved around the stage, he felt in control yet outside of himself at the same time.
The song rolled along, then it was over. The first act hurtled from one scene to the next and it was like riding an express train.
Near the end of Act One in the party scene, Michael and Elena kissed and cuddled in the background of Gretchen and Bill’s argument. Michael nuzzled Elena’s neck carefully so as not to mess up her make-up. “Having fun yet?” he murmured near her ear.
She rested her forehead against his and smiled. “It’s great!” she mouthed so her mic wouldn’t pick up the words. She kissed him lightly.
His slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, then kissed the top of her head before looking up to react to Gretchen and Bill’s escalating argument. He was so damn happy to be here, it was a struggle to achieve a look of concern.
He rose and crossed the stage to Bill, where he pantomimed trying to calm him down.
Trinka as Jen, Gretchen’s new friend and eventual love interest in Act Two, entered the scene, complicating things further. The couple’s argument evolved into an angry rock number, “Since When?”, as the friends’ festering issues with one another exploded. Accusations and recriminations rose in a cacophony of sound. At the end of the number, each voice held its final note in a dissonant wail. The characters were scattered across the stage, each in his or her own isolated bubble of space, signifying the fragmentation of their group.
Michael’s chest rose and fell. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled into his eyes, but he waited a beat after the blackout to wipe it.
The exciting song brought thunderous applause from the audience. Act One could have ended on that high, dramatic note in his opinion, but Aaron and Kathleen’s breakup also came before intermission.
Offered a job in another city, Kathleen tried to get a commitment from Aaron, who wouldn’t ask her to stay or proclaim his love. The act ended on Kathleen’s plaintive plea, “Don’t Hurt Me”, before walking out, leaving Aaron alone on stage.
Head bowed, eyes trained on the floor, Michael waited for the spotlight to extinguish then walked from the stage with applause ringing in his ears and triumph swelling in his heart. This show was a success. He was a success. For the first time in his life he felt confident about his choice of career. Take that, Dad.
But even as he exulted in the rush of audience approval, Michael knew stage triumph would prove nothing to his father. It wasn’t acting as a career that was unacceptable. He must do this for himself. It shouldn’t matter what his dad thought. But on some elemental level, he knew it always would.
Denny sat in the make-up chair, adding faint age lines to the corners of his eyes and between his brows with a pencil. The second act began with the friends meeting again several years later for Bill’s funeral.
There was a lot more emotional range for the character of Richard in the second act as he changed from an idealistic college boy to a career-obsessed man on the fast track to political stardom. There was a meaty clash between Logan’s character, Zach, still the revolutionary, and Richard, who believed in working for change from inside the existing political structure.
While part of Denny’s mind geared up for Act Two, most of his focus was on Tom. He would see him tonight for the first time in almost two months, and it was a toss up whether he was more keyed about the opening of the show or seeing his boyfriend again.
They hadn’t talked since Tom called from the airport that morning. Denny feared something had happened to keep him from coming. He wouldn’t be comfortable until he actually saw him after the show and held him in his arms again.
Denny was worried about much more than Tom possibly missing the show. Lately, he’d seemed preoccupied when they talked on the phone, and Denny needed to see him, look in his eyes, to know everything was all right between them.
Slicking back his hair to create a receding hairline, he sprayed it to hold it in place. He took the towel from around his neck and brushed stray powder off his shirtfront. Rising, he walked around the room, too wired to sit still.
Gretchen was bent over, polishing a
scuff on one of her shoes.
“Hey, Gretch, great job tonight.”
“Thanks. Are we going too fast? It seems really fast tonight.”
“Maybe a little. Our energy’s up, but I don’t think we’re rushing.” He took in her wide, dilated eyes and her twitchiness and wondered if she was on something. She spent a lot of time with Jake these days doing whatever it was they did and hardly confided in Denny anymore, but he was too tweaked to worry about it now. He’d make a point to talk to her soon.
Intermission passed quickly and they took their places for the next act, which began with an exposition song, “Older, Not Wiser”. Denny thought it was the weakest number in the show, although necessary to explain what the characters had done during the intervening years.
After the opening song and the funeral tribute, the friends talked about old times. Kathleen and Aaron’s attraction still sizzled under the surface. Richard cast pining looks at Kathleen and argued with Zach about ideals. Denny and Logan had their moment to shine in the fiery duet that was their quarrel and their performance was rewarded with loud applause.
Offstage, Denny patted sweat from his face and watched Elena and Michael’s scene from the wings. The former lovers talked about the past and how their lives diverged. Aaron claimed their relationship never would have worked, but the yearning duet “It’s Not Who We Are” only underscored the fact they were the “destined” couple of the show.
Musical theater managed to distill the most complex relationships to archetypes, and true love was a must. Maybe that’s why people loved musicals. They made life simple. Denny smiled as he watched Elena and Michael do their magic, eliciting sparks the audience could feel all the way to the highest tier of seats.
The tension escalated in the next scenes as Kathleen became involved with Richard’s political campaign, covered by journalist, Michael. The three resumed the tense triangle of their college years. Audrey and Jen planned a non-traditional wedding, pushing a hot-button issue that threatened Richard’s campaign if he dared attend. Then Anarchist Zach endangered everyone with a homemade bomb set off during a rally.
When Aaron still couldn’t give her the emotional commitment she needed, Kathleen left again, but ultimately returned to Aaron, who finally broke down and opened up to her.
In the final ensemble number, the group was magically intact; even dead Bill and imprisoned Zach were there to sing a reprise of “We Are All”.
They were at curtain call before Denny knew it. First the chorus then the primary cast members joined hands and bowed in unison. The audience rose to its feet, applauding and whistling. He glanced at Elena on his left, Gretchen on his right. The women shone with the same exhilaration he felt. He squeezed their hands.
The cast took a final bow before the curtain closed.
“I love this!” Gretchen squealed, throwing her arms around Denny’s neck. He lifted her in a bear hug, catching a strong whiff of Febreze emanating from her costume that didn’t quite mask the smell of sweat and stage make-up. It was the familiar, beloved scent of theater.
Everyone milled around the stage for a few moments, embracing and congratulating one another on their performances, then moved to a reception room off the lobby where refreshments were provided for them and their invited guests. When the cast entered the room, the friends and family members applauded.
The cast members were welcomed by their relatives. Gretchen’s family was the largest. She was the center of a group which included her elderly grandmother, parents, aunts and uncles and several young nephews and nieces. Elena hugged a petite, dark-haired woman, who looked like an older version of herself. Trinka, Bill, Logan and all the chorus members had someone there for them.
Denny’s searched the room for Tom. His heart lurched when he didn’t see him.
Michael came up beside him. “He’s not here?”
“Not yet.” Denny hid his disappointment. “Maybe he missed his flight.”
“Want to get something to eat? I’m fucking starving.”
Denny glanced at Michael, suddenly aware he had no guests waiting for him, either. “Sure. Me, too.”
They headed toward the buffet table, artistically laden with flowers, champagne, cheese, fruit and canapés.
“I could use something a little more substantial than this,” Michael said, loading up a little plate.
“Mr. Lucas?” A beautiful woman with upswept, honey-blonde hair and impeccable make-up approached Michael. She wore a short black dress and very high heels. “Hi. I’m Jennifer Sorenson from the Trib.” She extended her hand.
Michael set his plate down and took it.
“I just wanted to congratulate you on the fabulous performance. We were all part of something really special here tonight.”
“Uh. Thanks.”
She looked at Denny. “You, too, Mr. Reeves. It was simply a stellar production all around.”
Denny smiled and thanked her, then spoke to Michael quietly. “I’m going to call and make sure everything’s all right. I’ll be back.” Reaching into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, he turned to leave the crowded, noisy room, then froze in his tracks.
Tom’s stocky frame filled the doorway. He wore a blue suit and clenched a program in one of his big hands. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at Denny. He jammed the program in his jacket pocket, lifted his hands and clapped.
Denny remained frozen for a moment, taking in every detail of the image of Tom standing in the doorway. He would remember this moment, this feeling, for the rest of his life. He walked into Tom’s embrace, hugging his solid body and burying his face in his neck. He breathed in the smell of Tom’s skin and his sage-scented cologne.
“I missed you so much.”
“Don’t. I’m going to start bawling in front of these people.” Tom’s voice was thick.
Stepping back, Denny took his boyfriend’s face between his hands and kissed him. Tom’s mouth was warm and familiar. It tasted like home. After a long, deep kiss, Denny pulled away.
“Come on. We need some privacy for this.” He took the other man’s hand and led him out into the hall.
“Sorry, I’m late. I’ve had this flu thing, so after the show I ran across the street to a pharmacy to buy something to settle my stomach and—”
Denny pushed him against the wall, silencing him with a kiss. Their mouths clashed together, hot and wet, teeth clicking with the force of it. Denny plunged his tongue between Tom’s lips and took possession of his mouth, one hand curled around the back of his neck, holding him steady.
Tom splayed his hands over Denny’s back, pulling him even closer.
Denny pressed into him, his erection rubbing against the matching bulge in Tom’s pants. After a few more searing kisses, he pulled away panting. “Sorry. You were saying?”
Tom smiled and stroked his face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. My battery went dead and by the time we landed it was too close to curtain and I didn’t want to disturb your ‘process’.” He laughed. He always teased Denny about his acting exercises. “Anyway, the show was wonderful. A real hit. I’m so proud of you.” He pulled Denny to him for another kiss.
After a moment, Denny’s mouth moved from Tom’s lips to his rough cheek. He kissed his way down his lover’s jaw and neck and licked the hollow of his throat. Tom moaned softly and tilted his head back.
Once more Denny pulled away, breathing heavily. “Okay. Before we end up fucking right here in this hallway…” He straightened Tom’s shirt collar and tie before stepping away. “You’re not feeling well?”
“I’ve got the flu that’s been going around. Everyone I know has it. I shouldn’t be kissing you. The last thing you need is to catch it.”
Denny put his palm to Tom’s forehead, noticing for the first time how pale he was. “You flew all the way out here sick? You shouldn’t have.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed your opening night for anything. Besides, I couldn’t stand one more day without yo
u, let alone another week.”
Denny was thrilled to hear it after Tom’s recent distance. “Do you want to go to my room at the motel? Or did you want to have something to eat or drink?” He nodded toward the reception room.
“Please. Are you kidding?” Tom raised an eyebrow.
Denny laughed. “Let’s go home then, my poor, sick boy. I’ll put you to bed and make you feel better.”
In the grubby backseat of the taxi on the way to the hotel, he held Tom’s hand. He resisted the urge to stroke his erection, even though the cab driver had probably seen worse and could probably care less.
Tom rubbed his thumb in circles on Denny’s palm. He asked questions about the production, then told a few stories about corporate stupidity at his office.
Once inside the hotel room, Denny reached for Tom again, helping him out of his jacket and loosening his tie. “I’m sorry your work’s been so shitty lately.”
“Me, too. I’m seriously thinking of changing jobs. I’ve been updating my résumé.”
“Wow. That serious?” Denny unbuttoned Tom’s shirt.
“It’s time. I can see things sliding downhill and want to get out before it gets any worse.”
Tom mirrored his motion and tugged Denny’s shirt off his arms and his undershirt over his head. He spread his hands flat against his chest. How good it felt to have those broad, blunt hands splayed against his skin once more. Denny’s heart raced with joy. Could Tom feel it thumping against his hands?
Leaning, Tom kissed where his hands had been while he slid them down Denny’s torso and gripped his waist.
“I guess…” Denny’s breath caught as Tom’s lips drifted south toward his stomach, setting it twitching. “I guess I didn’t realize you were that unhappy with your job. You never really said.”
Tom looked up from under his thick, dark brows. He pulled his lips away from Denny’s stomach long enough to say, “I didn’t really feel like talking about work. It was more interesting to hear about your rehearsals and all the crazy cast members than talk about a job I hate.”
How could he have begun to doubt him? It was Tom. His Tom.
