Fatal Gambit

by Ray Flynt

  The more he watched, the harder it was to keep his eyes open.

  Zane returned to the bedroom just as Aaron’s alarm sounded.

  He watched with amusement as Aaron flopped around under the covers and struggled to reach the snooze button. Over the past several weeks, Zane learned it wouldn’t be morning without Aaron hitting the snooze button a few more times. He looked adorable with his mop of curly blond hair.

  “Dude. Just shut it off. There’s eight inches of snow outside. More on the way.”

  Aaron grunted. His hand crashed against the alarm sending it careening onto the floor.

  “I got it.” Zane picked up the clock and turned it off.

  He draped his robe over a chair and slid into bed snuggling next to Aaron. He appreciated the warmth and wasn’t rebuffed this time. Zane smiled. Sleep finally kicked in.

  12

  Eleven days before opening

  Zane opened his eyes. Light flooded the walls. Visible through the window, a bright blue sky. He sensed the time was later than his usual rising and flipped over on his back to reach for Aaron. The other side of the bed was empty.

  The nightstand clock read 11:48 a.m.

  Holy shit.

  He jumped out of bed and looked outside. Ice crystals formed at the edge of the window and his breath fogged the glass. Sun reflected off the fresh cover of snow, which still clung to tree branches hours after the storm ended.

  Coffee cup in hand, Zane found Aaron sitting on the sofa, leaning into a laptop on the coffee table. “Hi there.”

  Aaron glanced in his direction. “Hey. Good afternoon.”

  Zane yawned. “I thought you’d wake me.”

  “You didn’t get much sleep the night before last. Figured best to let you catch up.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “Double checking the list of critics coming to see the show.”

  At one time, critics showed up on opening night, dashed from the theatre to write their review, while the production staff, cast, and investors waited late into the night for the early editions of the next day’s newspapers. Now producers made tickets available during select preview performances, giving critics time to write their reviews before they were posted on opening night.

  “What performances?”

  “Next Thursday, Friday, and Saturday—evenings only. I cleared it with Ralph.”

  “How many do you have lined up?”

  “Eighteen confirmed so far, I’m hoping for at least four more. Torch Song got thirty reviews last October, but you’re no Harvey Fierstein.”

  “My, but we’re in a scurrilous mood this morning.”

  “All in the eye of the beholder.” Aaron laughed. “I’m teasing. Publicity’s going well. I watched your interview on That’s The Ticket this morning—recorded it, if you want to see. Heather texted that two hundred people put their names in for the four pairs of tickets we’re giving away.”

  Zane shrugged. “Sounds good.”

  “When they made the same offer for tickets to see the new cast of Hello, Dolly!, they got a thousand requests.”

  “Yeah, but I’m no Bernadette Peters.”

  Aaron flashed an open-mouthed stare. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

  Zane gave him the finger before heading to the bathroom to shower and get ready. Aaron’s playfulness boosted his spirits. He’d done enough theatre to pick up from the mood of those involved whether they believed in the show or were merely going through the motions.

  That’s why the afternoon rehearsal meant so much. The cast would work with his new material for the first time. Ego occasionally clouded the picture, but he’d be able to sense how they felt.

  He pulled a cable-knit sweater over his head and ran a comb through his hair.

  Returning to the living room, he found Aaron staring out the window.

  “Bundle up. It’s only 18 degrees. The sidewalks could be slippery.”

  Zane grabbed his winter coat with a wool hoodie from the closet. “I’ll take my time. Probably stop for lunch along the way.”

  “There’s still a piece of quiche in the fridge from the corner deli.”

  Zane shook his head. “You can have it.”

  Aaron kissed him on the forehead. “Hope everything goes well. Are you staying through the show this evening?”

  “Not sure. Why?”

  “I thought we’d go back to that bar—Sweeney’s—in The Village.”

  Zane glanced at the time. He needed to leave. “Uh, if I’m not back, you go.”

  Aaron cocked his head. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah…it’s, uh, fine. Go without me.”

  He pulled the condo door closed behind him and sighed. There hadn’t been time to have a heart-to-heart with Aaron about Hector’s caution on hanging out in bars rumored to host cocaine sales.

  Zane savored the warmth as he entered through the stage door. After a flight of four stairs, he hung his coat on a hook and walked a short corridor before turning behind the cyclorama—a concave drop used to simulate sky behind Hayden Whitcomb’s mansion. With lighting instruments, the designer could achieve realistic effects on the cyc from sunrise to angry clouds.

  His script included a line, spoken by Knight, a science teacher, about Venus being visible in the morning sky. Without being asked, Rhonda Terranova managed to provide a planet in the stage’s sky.

  Zane spotted Tracy Macklin, the stage manager, holding a finger to her lips. A backstage monitor crackled with the actors’ voices rehearsing the scene he’d emailed to Hector the day before.

  Tracy had stage-managed his hit show Wired a dozen years earlier. She knew her stuff. They’d become friends, and when Gambit got its Off-Broadway shot, he specifically asked for her to join the crew. She stood at a podium off-stage left wearing a headset, a three-ring binder of the script in front of her.

  Zane approached and gave her a big hug. A few years younger than her, he’d always viewed her as an Earth-Mother figure. The years had added a few more pounds and gray hair—enhancing that impression.

  “Where’s Todd?” he whispered.

  Tracy pointed. “He’s behind the set spritzing Pawn for his big pool entrance. This is the second time they’ve rehearsed the new material.”

  Todd Hurley, Assistant Stage Manager, had worked on the crew of Wired, barely out of college at the time. He and Tracy had teamed up on a half-dozen shows over the years.

  Zane took a few steps on the opposite side of the podium. From there, he could observe the action on the stage from the wings. He loved Rook’s facial reaction as Pawn came through the French doors in his Speedo. Her face showed a combination of surprise and desire, and included a quick glance at his crotch.

  Tracy’s reaction, as she watched, told Zane the latest script additions worked.

  Pawn exited into the corridor leading to the set’s bathroom that consisted of an exposed vanity and mirror visible to the audience—no real plumbing. He emerged backstage in the dripping Speedo, and Todd handed him a towel. Doug, the actor playing the role, waved at Zane before returning to the scene.

  When Todd recognized Zane, he raced forward to offer a high five. Crew members wore black, which highlighted Todd’s full head of ginger hair.

  Rook’s reactions were spot-on during Pawn’s over-the-top dialogue standing behind the kitchen island, and she blushed when he deliberately mooned her.

  The scene completed, Tracy spoke into her headset, asking for the work lights.

  Hector shouted for everyone to gather.

  The four actors—the “weatherman” wasn’t at this rehearsal—sat on the stage furniture, joined by the crew and the two actors who served as standbys. Tucker and Melinda—he only knew their first names—had to know all of the male and female roles respectively, able to step in at the last minute.

  Hector stood at the front of the stage and pointed. “Our playwright, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Zane beamed at the smattering of applause as he sat on a stoo
l next to the kitchen counter.

  Lauren, playing the role of Knight, said, “Great additions to the script.”

  Hector gave notes, most offering suggestions on the timing of lines, waiting a beat, or punching a specific word.

  Ed Minteer bristled at Hector’s suggestion to pause after saying the line, “You know” before completing with “gettin’ it on.” Nearly fifty, the Brit expatriate exemplified haughty, or as Zane’s friends used to say about guys like that in college, “He thinks his shit don’t stink.” Ed had Broadway credits, even listed the Royal Shakespeare Company on his resume, though Zane doubted he’d ever done more than a soldier in Julius Caesar, or second murderer in Richard III.

  One of the many challenges for a playwright is ensuring the audience understands the characters and their relationships. A theatre patron may not remember a character’s name, and it’s silly to keep repeating it. Zane had incorporated age and gender diversity into the script. Hector added to the diversity by casting an African-American woman as Rook and a Brit as Bishop. Besides, American audiences love a British accent. The costumer can add another layer of recognition. In Gambit, she dressed Pawn in a Duchess Falcons sweatshirt. It helped establish the character as a student, and served as a nod to the college that first workshopped the play. He’d often overheard conversations at intermission referring to “the guy in the blue sweater” or “the woman with the extravagant hairdo”.

  Ed reclined in the Eames chair. “What was wrong with my line reading?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Hector said. “I thought you might like to milk two reactions out of it. Say, ‘You know’ with a raised eyebrow and a glimpse toward the audience. They’ll titter. Then throw in ‘gettin’ it on,’ maybe add a grind with your hips. That should get a big laugh. But if you don’t want the audience to notice, keep doing the line reading as you have.”

  Zane smiled at the put down. With the attention off him, Ed pouted. Nobody cared.

  Hector applauded. “Good job everyone, on learning the new material in such short order. We’re going to take a ten-minute break and then run the show from the top. Melinda, you get to play Hayden Whitcomb this go round.”

  While most of the cast and crew went to Nizzi’s on 9th Avenue for supper, Zane, Tracy, and Angela, in charge of wardrobe, shared a pizza in the green room. Tracy ruled out any talk of Trump or the show, which left relationship issues on the table.

  Zane mostly listened as the two ladies dished ex-husbands and current boyfriends. He decided to stay through the evening performance. The cast, including Ed, who enjoyed the role of cantankerous actor, incorporated all of the suggestions from the afternoon rehearsal. In addition to complaining about Hector’s suggestion on the new additions, Ed had balked at an instruction to tone down a critical line in scene three. He made both changes, and was rewarded by the audience with great reactions. Doubtful he would go back to his former line delivery.

  Unfortunately, the house was half empty. Granted the show hadn’t officially opened, but they couldn’t meet the weekly nut to operate if sparse crowds continued. One more worry added to Zane’s pile.

  After spending most of the day watching action at a Hampton’s beach house, it shocked his system stepping out of the theatre to temperatures in the teens. A chill ran up his spine. He pulled his coat tighter at his waist and walked as briskly as he could down 9th Avenue, avoiding the icy spots.

  He called out Aaron’s name as he entered the condo. No answer.

  After watching the ten o’clock local news, Zane left a lamp on in the living room and retired for the night.

  He woke shortly after 1:30 and realized Aaron wasn’t home.

  I hope he’s okay.

  Not long after he heard the key in the front door, followed by Aaron humming a tune Zane didn’t recognize. He lay on his side as Aaron entered the bedroom, immediately stripping off his clothes, his lithe body silhouetted against the beige wall by ambient light from the window.

  Aaron sniffled, stretched, and then collapsed onto the bed. Their eyes met.

  “Oh hi, buddy. You waited up for me.” Aaron sounded giddy, the smell of beer on his breath. He reached for a tissue on the nightstand.

  “Just woke up before you came in.”

  “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Come on… talk to me.”

  Zane rolled over.

  Seconds later. “Why don’t you want to talk with me?”

  He groaned. “It’s late.”

  Aaron persisted.

  Zane grabbed his pillow, climbed out of bed, grabbed a blanket from the closet and went out to the living room sofa.

  He’d about returned to sleep when the lights came on and Aaron stood naked next to the couch.

  “You don’t like me anymore?”

  That’s when Zane noticed the dilated pupils.

  13

  One week before Opening Night

  Brad glanced up from his computer as Sharon walked into the office wearing a number 9 Eagles jersey.

  He smiled. “The big game is over.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Stakeout again this afternoon, remember?”

  He had, especially since it was their only case at the moment. “How’d it go yesterday on the Milo Benedetti case?”

  “Boring is how it went. Milo never left home.” Sharon turned on her laptop.

  “Where’s he headed today?”

  “According to a former co-worker, Milo likes to visit a South Philly bar called Henderson’s on Mondays for their half-priced wings.” She tugged at the sleeve of the green jersey. “I’ll fit right in.”

  Brad nodded. “That guy must have been a prick to work with.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Half the shop is trying to nail his ass on this lawsuit. I met with the foreman on Friday. Six of his crew shared tips they thought would help uncover Milo’s scam.”

  Sharon hand-gestured gimme. “Anything we can use?”

  “Mostly him bragging. The lawyers want proof… preferably video.” Brad leaned back in his chair. “Milo got greedy. No one doubts, including management, that he got injured on the job. When he filed for worker’s comp, they didn’t challenge him. Then he saw an ad from a hotshot attorney and the potential to turn a strained trapezius and a pulled hamstring into a multi-million-dollar windfall.”

  She pointed at herself. “Yeah, well I’d like to prove he’s faking his disability. Sitting for hours in front of his house isn’t any fun.”

  “Be careful.”

  Sharon scoffed. “I’m not worried about him. Milo’s six inches shorter than you and fifty pounds heavier. I don’t want him to make that we’re following him. Oliver’s going with me. Figured I’d be less conspicuous than if I was alone. Maybe Milo will let his guard down with friends and reveal what he’s been up to, or we can get video of him in a limbo contest.”

  “I understand from Beth that Oliver will join us in New York this weekend.”

  “He’s never seen a—” Sharon stopped short. “Never attended a Broadway show.”

  Blind since birth, Oliver Reynolds had known Sharon from their days working together in juvenile probation. They’d been dating for a few years.

  “You’ve gone to movies with him, and he manages fine, right?”

  “He’s amazing. Catches things I miss.” She laughed.

  “At intermission, you can update Oliver on any questions he may have.”

  “There’s no intermission. I’ve been reading everything I can get my hands on about Gambit. The running time is ninety minutes. An eccentric invites four people who think they’re strangers to his house, but then they discover each other’s cyber connection.”

  Brad grinned. “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, I’ve seen Broadway shows before, but it’s exciting to be an insider and meet the cast at the opening night party.”

  “You and Beth should compare notes.”<
br />
  “We already have.”

  Brad arched an eyebrow.

  “A limo is picking us up at ten on Saturday. We’ll be staying at the Marriott Marquis. I don’t know how, but Beth managed to score Sunday matinee tickets for Hamilton.”

  “Her company advertises in Playbill. She arranged house seats through them.”

  He and Beth had been engaged for several years, what she laughingly referred to as “The World’s Longest Engagement.” When she worked in New York City, for the engineer design firm of Oring-Whitman, they often alternated weekend visits between his Bryn Mawr estate and her Manhattan apartment. Then she transferred to the Washington, DC, suburbs, when asked to head up a new satellite office. They continued the visitation patterns, but scheduling put off plans for a marriage ceremony. Beth prized her career, and as long as she was advancing in the corporate structure, wasn’t ringing wedding bells. Brad looked forward to the theatre weekend.

  He moved a folder to the side of his desk. “Any more scuttlebutt about the play or its author?”

  Sharon held a finger in the air, while the fingers of her other hand raced over the keyboard. “The show announced a cast change.” Sharon slid her laptop across the desk so Brad could read.

  The producers of Gambit are pleased to announce that Trevor Dodson will join the cast, beginning this weekend, in the pivotal role of Hayden Whitcomb, in whose Hampton mansion the story takes place. Dodson, critically acclaimed for his work in the 1985 production of The Iceman Cometh, also appeared on Broadway in The Cherry Orchard, and You Can’t Take It With You. He made several appearances in the TV drama St. Elsewhere, and movie credits include The Godfather II, and The Conversation.

  Brad glanced at Sharon. “St. Elsewhere? He sounds like a fossil.”

  “Did you see the quote where Zane Scott Tilghman welcomed an actor of his esteem?”

  “Isn’t that another word for fossil?”