The Final Act

by Dee, Bonnie

  The job must have been pure hell, because there was no one more adept at keeping his temper than Tom. After updating his resume, he’d been job-hunting ever since. Six weeks later, he still had no strong leads.

  Denny kept only a little from his paychecks; the rest went into the bank to cover rent, utilities and groceries. There’d been many times in the past when Tom was the sole wage earner while Denny pursued his craft so he was happy to finally have a chance to support his partner.

  Pulling his hypnotized gaze from the passing scenery, Denny took out his phone and called Tom, but got voice mail again and left another message.

  Elena plopped down in the seat beside him. “Got any antacid tablets? That pizza I had at lunch isn’t sitting well.”

  Denny patted his jeans pockets. “Hm. Let’s see. Why yes, I have a whole pharmaceutical counter here in my pants.”

  “Okay. A simple ‘no’ would have been sufficient. How about some gum instead?”

  Denny pulled out a crumpled pack and handed her a warm stick of gum.

  “Thanks.” Elena popped it in her mouth and chewed. “So, we’re taking bets. Will Renée snap before we get to Philly? Logan’s been baiting her for the last hour or so.”

  Denny turned to look over the high-backed seat toward the mid-section of the bus. He gauged Renée’s irritated scowl and Logan’s gleeful expression before sliding back down into his seat. “I give her another fifty miles before she blows.”

  Elena laughed. “It’ll almost be worth it, even though I’ll be the one to hear her complain about him.”

  “At least you’ll have a bedroom to yourself.”

  The predicted fireworks between Logan and Renée never erupted before they reached their destination. The accommodations in Philadelphia turned out to be a big disappointment. The building was old and musty smelling; the bedrooms in the apartments were closet-sized. A tiny kitchenette-living area and bath went with each two-bedroom suite. The décor was circa 1970s motor lodge.

  Despite the dilapidated appearance of the building, Denny was glad for the bit of privacy his monk’s cell afforded. As soon as he’d dumped his bags, he called Tom. The phone rang six times, then went to voice mail again.

  “Hey. Where’ve you been all day? I made it to Philadelphia. Give me a call as soon as you can. Looking forward to seeing you. Love you. Bye.”

  After he’d hung up, Denny sank down on his lumpy bed and looked around the shabby room. If he never had to spend another night in a strange bedroom, staring at ugly wallpaper and garish, orange plaid drapes, it would be too soon. Maybe traveling was glamorous if you were a rock star staying at five-star hotels with fresh fruit and flowers waiting in every room and an entourage to grant your every request, but somehow he doubted even that would help. Being on the road was simply a grind, physically and emotionally wearing.

  He sighed. Tomorrow was a tech rehearsal in the new location. While the cast didn’t need to perform the entire play, they might run a dance number or two, and most of the day would be spent at the theater. Today he should catch up on his laundry, although he’d much rather sleep. He got up and sorted through his clean and dirty clothes.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Hey, roomie. Are you decent?” Bill opened the door without waiting for an answer. “A bunch of us are going out to find something to eat and decompress. Wanna come?”

  “Exactly what I want to do, spend even more time with ‘the gang’ after a two-day road trip.” Denny looked at the jumbled laundry, then back at Bill. “Yes. Definitely!”

  A half hour later, they sat at a large round table in the side room of yet another restaurant Logan had chosen. He enjoyed ferreting out places recommended by locals rather than eating at chain restaurants.

  The room had a homey ambiance, and the wait staff didn’t look alarmed at the large number in their party, which was always a plus. Logan was already flirting with one of the waitresses down at his end of the table.

  Denny turned to Gretchen, sitting on his left with Jake on her other side. He breathed in a strong whiff of weed. “Quite a trip.”

  “Awful,” Gretchen agreed, brushing her flyaway hair back from her face. “How much togetherness can a person take? Sometimes I feel like I’m in a prison movie.”

  “Alcatraz on the road.” Denny smiled. “I guess we’re running full tech tomorrow now that the set has finally arrived. The crew’s still trying to pull it together, but supposedly they’re ready for a check.”

  “Great.”

  Conversation lagged after that brief exchange. Gretchen rather abruptly turned her attention back to Jake, leaving Denny to talk to Bill, sitting on his other side. Bill prattled on about his ongoing SAG issue for about fifteen minutes—something to do with his equity status. In the middle of his monologue, Denny noticed Gretchen and Jake leaving. They hadn’t ordered or eaten.

  He watched them go, the pair of them occupying their own little bubble, then exchanged a look with Elena across the table. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  When he could take no more of Bill’s tirade, Denny excused himself and went to the privacy of the men’s room to check his cell for a return call from Tom. There was none. With a sigh, he returned the phone to his pocket and went back to the party.

  They spent the next few hours drinking, eating and topping each other’s worst theater experiences. Every possible topic of conversation should have been exhausted on the long bus ride, but there was always one more story to tell. He was pretty sure Logan was starting to tell other peoples’ stories as his own or maybe making things up. Usually Denny loved this social aspect of being part of a theater troupe as much as the acting. But tonight his nagging worry about Tom’s unavailability made it hard to enjoy the fun.

  After a final nightcap, when it became clear Chris, Logan and Michael were in competition to drink each other under the table, Denny bid the group goodbye and went back to his room. He tried to call Tom one last time before he went to bed and left a message that probably reflected more annoyance than he meant it to.

  He lay wondering and worrying for hours before he finally fell asleep.

  The next morning, Tom called, waking him from a deep sleep at about nine o’clock.

  “Hi. Sorry I missed your messages yesterday. I turned my phone off early in the day and forgot to turn it back on again.”

  “That’s all right. It happens. How are you? Everything okay?” Denny rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye and yawned.

  “Yeah. I’ve had a few job interviews. Things are progressing. Nothing concrete yet.”

  “Well, since you’re not working right now, maybe you can spend a few more days here.” Denny smiled at the thought of waking up next to Tom instead of alone in this too-narrow bed.

  There was a long pause. “Yeah. About that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it.”

  Denny was suddenly wide-awake. He sat up straight and his heart beat faster. These were not good words to hear first thing in the morning…or ever. “Why not?”

  “I can’t afford the trip, for one thing. Being out of work, I really have to watch the cash flow.”

  “No big deal. I’ll pay for the gas and any other expenses. Money’s not a problem.”

  “But also, I’ve got all these job possibilities and I don’t want to miss any opportunities by being out of town. After I get settled in a new job, I’ll take a weekend and fly out to see you, wherever you are by then.”

  Denny wondered if he was still asleep and having a bad dream. “Philadelphia is only a few hours’ drive from New York, less than an hour if you fly. If someone called for an interview, you could cut the visit short and be home right away.”

  Tom paused again and drew an audible breath. “I guess, but…the truth is, I’m feeling really unsettled right now. I don’t think I’d be very good company.”

  “I don’t care. I still want to see you. If you don’t want to travel, I understand. I can take a quick trip home on one of our off days.” Tom’s
objections weren’t logical and he was the most logical person Denny knew. Something was wrong. “Don’t you want to see me?”

  “Of course I do, but I need to work through some things right now. And I need to do it alone.”

  Denny was shocked silent. He was aware of deep quiet all around him, as if the very air had been sucked out of the room. “You don’t want to see me.”

  “I do, but I…just can’t right now.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Denny heard his own voice, as sharp as shards of broken glass. “What’s so bad you can’t share it with me?”

  “Please, try to understand. This isn’t about us. It’s about me. My shit. My life.”

  “Which you suddenly can’t share with me.” Before Tom could reply, Denny stormed on. “I knew something like this was going to happen! You swore this separation wouldn’t touch us, but ever since I left New York you’ve been holding back from me. You’ve changed. What the hell is going on? Don’t you love me anymore? Are you… Are you trying to break up with me?”

  He wanted to take back the words the moment they were out of his mouth. What if Tom said yes? But it was too late, the challenge was out there.

  “No. Not at all!” Tom said firmly. “I don’t want to break up, and yes, I love you. This isn’t about another guy or anything like that.” He hesitated. “But, like I said, I have some things I need to work out. I’ll share them with you as soon as I figure them out myself.”

  “Oh, great. I’ll just be waiting for that then.” His horrified fear that they were on the verge of a breakup suddenly switched to anger. “Look, I’ve got to get dressed and go over to the theater. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk or ‘share’ or whatever, but don’t expect another call from me.”

  He hung up before Tom could say anything else, and then stared at the phone in his hand, trying to figure out when his feelings had veered from worry to fury. Denny had never hung up on Tom in anger before—never.

  “Not fucking around, my ass!” He flung the phone to the nightstand. He missed and it clattered to the floor.

  Denny got up and looked out the window at gray clouds rolling across the sky above the city rooftops. Perfect. He couldn’t have stood sunshine glaring on his dark mood. The idea of Tom seeing someone else was unimaginable, but Denny couldn’t imagine what else could possibly come between them.

  Scene Four: Offstage and On

  Elena checked her props. She would do it one last time closer to curtain, but liked to make a preliminary check, especially when they were in a new location.

  The tech run had gone smoothly yesterday and they were ready for tonight’s opening. Even though the show was exactly the same, it always felt different in a new city on a new stage. For that matter, every performance was different. And the size of the audience didn’t give a clue what to expect. Sometimes a small group participated more than a full house, and the peoples’ response always affected those onstage. When the audience was reserved and polite, the actors’ energy was low, while enthusiasm fed them.

  Elena headed back to the Green Room. Walking around the back wall of the living room set, she literally ran into Michael. The force of the collision knocked her backward.

  He grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Her skin tingled where his fingers touched. When was her body going to stop reacting to him? They’d kissed, fondled and held each other for several months now in a strictly professional way, but his touch still had the power to arouse her in seconds flat.

  Michael held her a moment longer, then let go. “I was just…” He nodded toward the stage.

  Things had been strained between them since the argument in Minneapolis. It was difficult being so intimate in public and barely talking offstage. Elena decided the stalemate had gone on far too long.

  “Look, I want to apologize for what I said before about you being cold…or detached.”

  “‘Aloof’, I think.”

  She blushed. “Yeah, that. I should have apologized right away, but I didn’t, and then it got too late to say anything. So, belatedly, I’m sorry.”

  He nodded.

  “Anyway, it’s not true, and even if it is, I didn’t need to point it out, so—”

  “Quit while you’re ahead, Elena,” he interrupted, giving her that sexy, lopsided grin that sent her pulse racing. His cell phone rang, but he ignored it, continuing to look down into her eyes. “Maybe there was some truth in what you said. Sometimes it seems you end up adopting your parents’ worst flaws no matter how you fight against it.”

  Elena smiled. “Hey, you think my tendency to micro-manage is my own character trait? Nuh-uh, it’s all my mother, I tell you.”

  His grin widened, and her heart thudded. The way his damn blue eyes sparkled grabbed and shook her, twisting her into knots every time.

  Michael’s phone rang again and this time he fished it from his pocket. He frowned when he saw who was calling.

  “I have to take this.”

  He walked away from her, and Elena watched his back, shoulders hunched a little as he talked into the phone. His hair needed trimming. It was beginning to flip up on the ends. But it sure felt good to run her hands through the silky strands when they made out during the party scene.

  His voice rose. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.… Yes, Mother. I’ll take the first flight after the show.” He hung up without saying goodbye. “Fuck!”

  Elena was torn. If it was anyone else, she would naturally go over to find out what was the matter, but with Michael, she wasn’t sure he’d appreciate having his privacy disturbed. He turned and caught sight of her and it was too late to walk away, pretending she hadn’t heard.

  “What happened?”

  “My father had a heart attack.” He looked down and pressed a number into the phone.

  “God, I’m so sorry. How serious is it?”

  “They don’t know yet. My mom called from the hospital. She—”

  He spoke into the phone. “Philadelphia… The Philadelphia International Airport.” He turned away from Elena.

  She walked away, but not too far, and stood, examining a patch on the back of a flat, and tapping her toe on the scarred floor, waiting to see what would happen next.

  After a few minutes, he hung up. “I’ve got a flight at two o’clock.”

  “You should have Chris fill in for you tonight and book an earlier flight.”

  “There wasn’t anything much earlier anyway. I’d rather go on.”

  “Are you sure? You must be upset. I’m sure Chris would—”

  “I’ll be fine.” He strode past her toward the men’s dressing room.

  Elena watched him walk away. She wondered if he was in any state of mind to perform tonight. If it was her mother in the hospital, she’d be a wreck, but Michael was estranged from his father and clearly didn’t feel the same kind of emotional connection. Still, perhaps she should tell Kurt Peters, just in case Chris had to pinch hit. Then again, it was Michael’s business.

  Still arguing back and forth with herself, she went to the women’s dressing room and laid out her make-up.

  “What are you frowning about?” Cara asked, sitting beside her and opening her own case. “Is your new roommate giving you trouble?”

  “Huh? Oh, Renée? She’s a pain in the ass, but it’s not too bad.”

  “That’s because we’re in apartments. Wait until you have to actually share a room with her. It was heroic of you to give Gretchen a break.”

  Elena opened her mouth to tell Cara about Michael’s trouble then closed it again. Gossip spread quickly in the company, and damned if she’d contribute to it. “Renée’s getting better, starting to fit in a little. I miss rooming with you, though.” Piles of dirty clothes and heavy metal bands aside.

  Cara sniffed. “I hate the bitch. She took my role.” She leaned toward the mirror and dabbed base on her face.

  Elena finished her pre-show preparation and didn’t see Mic
hael again until just before curtain. Before taking her place onstage, she paused beside him.

  “Any more news?”

  “No.” He didn’t really look at her, his gaze already on his spot by the window. She squeezed his forearm before hurrying to her own position.

  Whatever worry he might be feeling, Michael performed with his usual focus. During the party scene as he nuzzled her neck, Elena whispered, “Are you sure you’re okay?” She stroked the side of his face and kissed him.

  He smiled and lifted her palm to his lips. “Quit asking,” he mouthed against it.

  At intermission, Elena tracked him down in the stage exit alley where the smokers in the cast and crew were stationed against the wall, talking and puffing away.

  At the mouth of the alley, Michael stood with his cell phone to his ear, his body silhouetted against headlights and streetlights. As Elena drew near, he flipped the phone closed and jammed it into his pocket.

  She approached cautiously. “Any news?”

  He half turned, acknowledging her with a glance. There was a long pause before he answered. “He didn’t make it. He died on the operating table… He’s dead.”

  Elena sucked in a breath. “I’m so sorry.” She moved closer. “You must be…?” Must be what? She had no idea what Michael was feeling. He’d seemed to despise his father, so “devastated” was probably overstating it. “Shocked” might be closer to the truth. She touched his arm.

  He didn’t respond or pull away.

  After a moment, she slid her hand down his arm and entwined her fingers with his. Michael stared at their clasped hands for a moment, and then curved his around hers.

  “I’m really sorry. Why don’t you tell Kurt? Let Chris replace you for the second act.”

  Michael hesitated a moment longer, then pulled away. “No. I can’t get there any sooner anyway so I’d rather just perform.” He turned abruptly and strode past her, toward the stage door.

  Elena followed, her heart aching for his loss and for the hurt that father and son had given one another. They’d never reconciled and now it was too late. She wished there was something she could say to help Michael, some way she could break through his wall and reach the wounded heart she knew he must be shielding inside.