Devil's Creek

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  “Turn, please.” Gambino pointed to Caroline.

  She smiled, did a pretty pirouette-type turn, and curtsied.

  The crowd applauded, but Gambino frowned. “No theatrics, please. Just do as I say.”

  Anderson frowned. What the hell? This is a theater. No theatrics?

  Caroline lowered her eyes and nodded to the prof. “Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s okay. Now. I want you to split up in small groups. Merry, take two girls with you and stand over there.” He motioned for her to move to the right. “You, with the pigtails,” he pointed to a cute redhead Anderson had seen earlier in their class, “take two girls with you. Stand center stage.” He continued to divide the group into three, until he came to Caroline and a pretty Asian woman who’d come in from the community theater. She had to be thirty-five, Anderson thought, but was lovely and would fit the role just fine if she had the voice and the moves.

  “Gene? Would you hand out the score, please?”

  The pianist left his bench and walked sedately from group to group, handing out sheets of music. He settled back at the piano and poised his hands over the keyboard.

  “People, we are going to sing through bar eighteen. This piece starts out in D major in an allegretto tempo. But don’t be deceived by bar nineteen, it changes to the key of E flat major. There are dark tones throughout, and much drama. Tonight I want you to give it your all, because being able to nail this piece is the most important aspect of the audition.”

  Anderson gave a thumbs up to Caroline, who stood calmly with the music at her side. She’d obviously memorized it and didn’t need the score. He relaxed. That was a good sign.

  Gambino nodded to the pianist, who began the introduction.

  “All of you, start singing!” The prof waved his hands as if conducting an orchestra. “That’s it!”

  The stage erupted in sound. Some of the voices were sweet, some off key. A few stood out among the crowd, and Anderson wasn’t surprised to see they belonged to Merry and Caroline. The redhead in braids also seemed to be a strong contender.

  Gambino walked the stage in front of each young woman, pausing to listen to every one. When they reached the stopping point, he raised his hands. “Again.”

  They repeated this section three times. Three girls were dismissed. Seven remained.

  “Okay. Let’s do a little dancing.” Gambino suddenly roared, his color high and eyes bright. “Take off your shoes, ladies. Now I’m going to make you really sweat.”

  Chapter 22

  Professor Gambino must have been seriously trained in dance because he stopped, changed into ballet slippers, and instructed the seven women to follow a simple ballet routine which he demonstrated with surprising agility.

  Anderson gave a begrudging smile. Not bad, for an old geezer.

  Caroline shone, and was probably the strongest dancer of the girls who didn’t come from the ballet school. But there were two who danced far better than the rest. He felt a small shudder of hope run through him. Merry couldn’t dance worth a damn.

  For another hour, Gambino tried to instruct the girls, focusing on Merry particularly. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to catch on, but he didn’t dismiss her. Four other girls were released, and two left in tears. Remaining were Merry, Caroline, and the redhead in braids, Ellie.

  Watching the girls who left sobbing, Anderson felt a pang of empathy for them. He’d seen enough of that pain in high school. Emotions ran high in these tryouts, especially in teenagers, and most of these girls hadn’t yet reached the age of twenty.

  Gambino sat at the edge of the stage, slipped off his ballet shoes, and wiped perspiration from his brow. “Water,” he said, and a minion ran to his side with a bottle, which he drained.

  “Okay. I’m passing out the duet, ‘Music of the Night,’ and I need volunteers to sing with these three women. I will sing with Merry, and the rest of you men will choose a partner, too. I want to see how the ladies act, how well they work with a partner. I want to see emotion, people.”

  Antonio Ballero, a tall, fortyish man with thick black hair who’d been a popular singer in Off-Broadway shows for years, Hank, and Anderson were the only men in the audience. Gambino eyed them purposefully. “Agreed?”

  All three nodded.

  “Take fifteen, study the script, and come back up ready to show me some passion. Men, you’ll get your chance to audition for real tomorrow night. I just need you to support the ladies right now, so no grandstanding. Is that understood?”

  Eyes still shining, Caroline hopped off the stage and took Anderson’s hands. “Come on. Let’s go practice over there.” She pointed to the far end of the auditorium.

  “Sure thing,” Anderson said, following her at a jog.

  They sang for ten minutes, their voices intertwining effortlessly. Caroline sang softly, but she hit all the notes with perfect pitch, and her breath control astounded Anderson. Was she really just a freshman in college? Her voice seemed more mature than it had any right to sound, and she was clearly well-schooled. Not only did she nail the technicalities, but her voice rang with a purity, a sweetness that sent chills down his spine. More than that, it touched him on such a deep level, he could barely breathe.

  How could this be happening? How could a handful of notes emerging from one woman’s lips do this to him?

  Astounded, he searched her eyes, barely able to speak. “My God. You’ve got the voice of an angel.”

  She laughed. “Stop that. You’ll turn my head.”

  “No, I mean it.” He continued to stare. “I… You… ” He shook himself and tried to force the words from his lips. “Your voice is pure honey.”

  She blushed and shushed him. “Hey. I already kinda like you, fella. You don’t have to—”

  “Where did you study?” he asked.

  “Just with a local lady, friend of my mom’s, actually. She used to sing at the Met, a very long time ago. She’s retired now. Madame Truro. Do you know her?”

  “Adelle Truro?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is so weird. My father had all her recordings. His favorite was her rendition of ‘Casta Diva’ in Bellini’s opera, Norma.”

  “I love that recording,” she said. “But what about you? You were perfect,” she said, still laughing. “I can’t believe how well we fit each other. I had no idea you were such a strong tenor.”

  Anderson pulled her to him, pressing as close as possible. Desire surged through him and for one crazy moment, all he wanted to do was to pick her up and carry her back to his bed. Nothing else mattered. Not school. Not the war. Not these auditions. He needed to be with her, inside her, worshipping her. He whispered in her ear, “I have a feeling we’ll fit together in more ways than just singing.”

  She leaned against him, nuzzling his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin. “Oh, Anderson. We already do.”

  Gambino had been singing with Merry, but Anderson hadn’t noticed. He’d been too enthralled with the sensations shooting through his racing heart.

  He was pulled up short when the professor shouted to the couples spread around the auditorium.

  “That’s enough time, let’s get cracking on this.” He pointed to Anderson and Caroline. “Okay, you two. Stop making out over there and get over here. Let’s do this. You two.” He pointed to Hank and Ellie. “Get up there and sing your hearts out for us.”

  ∞∞∞

  Two and a half hours later, the singers slumped in the front row, wrung out and waiting for feedback. Hank seemed especially upbeat, and Anderson had to begrudgingly admit, the goon had sung beautifully, overshadowing Ellie. It hadn’t exactly been “grandstanding,” but it was close. He’d sung louder than her and had wrung every bit of pathos from the song, making it his own.

  Gambino bent over his pad of paper, making notes and frowning in concentration. He’d look up occasionally, holding up one finger. “Just a few more minutes, people.”

  After an agonizing wait, he finally stood. “Okay. I need
two of you up on stage. I want Merry and Caroline to sing Carlotta’s part from ‘Poor Fool, He Makes Me Laugh’.”

  Anderson exchanged a puzzled glance with Caroline. The vocalizing required of Carlotta was torturous, with coloratura passages that challenged the best sopranos in the world.

  Was Gambino considering Caroline for the comic role of Carlotta?

  She stood and smiled, but Anderson could see a nervous shudder pass through her. She hadn’t prepared for this song. Hadn’t even considered it.

  Both women were on stage in seconds. The pianist passed out the music, and Gambino gave a nod of thanks to him. “Both of you, sing together first.”

  They started to sing, with Merry’s voice ringing stronger and louder than Caroline’s. She’d practiced, it was clear. And she excelled at this type of singing. Her voice was more rounded, powerful, and mature. She’d nailed it, even before Gambino asked her to sing the piece solo.

  Caroline slinked back to her seat, her cheeks flushed. “Oh, God. I’ve blown it,” she whispered.

  Anderson slid an arm around her and kissed her cheek. “No. You didn’t.”

  Merry didn’t have just the voice, the intonations, and the humor down to a tee, she also used choreographed movements that seemed well-rehearsed.

  Gambino let her finish, applauded when she was done, and urged the other students to join him. “Well. That was fabulous. Thank you, Merry. Tomorrow night we’ll get to Raoul and The Phantom, folks. Be sure to show up early and come ready to wow me.”

  They stood to gather their things, and Gambino approached Anderson.

  “A word, please?” he said.

  Anderson stiffened. “Of course.”

  Gambino led him to the side of the auditorium. “What part are you trying out for tomorrow, son?”

  “The Phantom, sir. I’ve been practicing all summer.”

  Gambino’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you have. But listen,” he lowered his voice. “I want you to try out for Raoul as well. Come back prepared to sing ‘All I Ask of You,’ with your girlfriend over there. Understood?”

  Anderson paled. “Uh. Yes, sir. Okay.”

  “And son?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Please stop calling me sir. You’re not in the army any more. Call me Prof.”

  Marines, Anderson mentally corrected. I’m not in the Marines anymore. “Yes, s—. Yes, Professor.”

  Gambino patted his shoulder. “Good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 23

  Merry approached Caroline when it was all over. “Sweetie? Can I have a word with you?”

  Caroline set her backpack down on the chair again. “Sure, I guess.”

  “Um.” Anderson stood awkwardly beside them. “I’ll just be outside, okay?”

  Caroline tossed him a grateful smile, but he was certain she was close to tears. It had been an emotional evening, and to face the woman who may have trumped her tonight would be a tough way to end it.

  “Okay. Wait for me, Anderson?”

  “Of course.” He slung his book bag over his shoulder and headed up to the back of the auditorium. Funny, how fast everyone had disappeared when it was over. The professor and Merry were the only other people left in the theater.

  The corridors leading to the exit were darkened, with a few lights spaced far between for evening operations. No one expected the auditions to go to eleven o’clock.

  Around a corner, Anderson heard feet scuffling and the sound of a cart rolling down the hall.

  A janitor?

  The massive transport cart hit him full force, loaded with a dozen chairs. It sent him flying to the floor, knocking the breath out of him. His head cracked hard on the stone tiles, and he lay still for a second while the dark hall spun.

  What had just happened?

  The body flew atop him before he could regain his senses, and now he knew.

  Hank.

  With a harsh whisper, Hank leaned into his face, straddling Anderson’s middle. “What did the professor say to you in there?”

  Anderson tried to shake off the dizziness. “What? Get the hell off me.”

  Hank leaned closer, spitting the words. “In the auditorium, you fool! What did he just say to you?”

  “For fuck’s sake. Get off.”

  Anderson bucked and nearly dislodged the guy, but somehow the jerk stayed on top of him. With speed that surprised him, Hank grabbed fistfuls of Anderson’s hair and slammed his head against the floor, sending shooting pain through his skull. “I want to know what he said. Was it about me?”

  He saw stars, and his head screamed in pain. Now he was getting mad. The stupid piss ant guy was actually shrieking in his face. Who the hell did he think he was?

  “Is he giving The Phantom role to you? Is he?” Hank shrieked.

  Anderson’s training finally kicked in, and he rolled to the side and pinned Hank beneath him, holding him by the neck. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you,” he panted. “But I’m getting really sick of your crap.”

  Hank rocked and squirmed beneath him, slamming his knee into Anderson’s crotch. “Back out of the show, you hear me?” He slipped out of Anderson’s grasp, and leaned over close to his face. “I'm the one who’s going to play the Phantom with Caroline. Not you.”

  Hot pain seared Anderson’s balls and he curled into a fetal position, groaning. “You are so fucked up, man.”

  Hank stood over him now, and delivered one more kick, this time to his face.

  Warm blood spilled over Anderson’s cheek. “Screw you,” he moaned. “You’re crazy.”

  A door opened and footsteps approached. Anderson’s eyes were closed, but he heard the coward run toward the exit.

  What a psycho.

  “Anderson?” Caroline’s scream came seconds later. Racing to his side, she dropped to her knees beside him. “Oh my God. What happened?”

  He cupped his injured parts and groaned. “Hank happened.”

  “What?” Her head snapped around, searching for his attacker. “Where is he?”

  “Long gone, the coward.” He sat up gingerly. “Oh, that hurts.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “Clocked me with that cart there, and kneed me in the balls when I was down.”

  “You’re bleeding.” She dabbed at the cut on his forehead with the bottom of her blouse. “You need a doctor.”

  “No,” he sat up straighter and breathed deeply. “I’ll be okay. Just get me out of here.”

  “You might need stitches,” she said, helping him up.

  Anderson leaned on her, trying to get past the numbing pain. “I can do it if I really need them.”

  “What? You carry your own medical kit with you?”

  “I’ve got one at home. I used to stitch myself up all the time over there.”

  “You mean in the war?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Wow.”

  They waited another ten minutes until Anderson could breathe again without crying out in agony.

  “Ready to try a few steps?”

  “Let’s give it a try.”

  Arm-in-arm, Professor Gambino and Merry emerged from the auditorium and walked toward them, but Anderson didn’t want to have to explain about the maniac who’d attacked him. “Come on. Let’s duck into the restroom for a second.”

  She helped him hobble toward the men’s room around the corner, barely avoiding the professor and singer.

  After running cool water over a paper towel, she dabbed it on his face. “You poor thing.”

  “I don’t know how he got the drop on me. I must be losing my edge.”

  “Um. That cart had a whole roomful of chairs on it. He could have killed you.”

  “That would have made his day,” Anderson said. “He’s a lunatic, Caroline.”

  She teared up. “I know. But he didn’t used to be like this. He was… actually nice in high school.”

  “Unti
l you broke up with him?”

  “Exactly.”

  Anderson’s groin felt like the fire inside had finally dissipated, and he stood up straighter. “I think I can walk upright now.”

  “Okay. Let’s get you back to my place. I’ve got bandages and stuff.”

  “Sounds good.”

  They picked up their bags and started toward the parking lot.

  “So, what did Merry want back there?”

  Caroline smiled. “She was just being nice. She said she loved my voice and hoped we both got cast. She wants to sing with me in the show, no matter what roles we get. She was actually very gracious.”

  “Nice,” he said. They emerged into the cool evening air. He stopped, looked around the lot, and relaxed. The maniac wasn’t lying in wait. “Are you over at the dorms?”

  She shook her head. “No. I live with my aunt.” She pointed to an old beat up Toyota Corolla. “That’s me. Come on, let’s get you fixed up.”

  Chapter 24

  Caroline drove the old sedan slowly through the streets of town until she came to the edge of the village. “We’re a ways up the hill,” she said. “About another two miles.”

  “You sure your aunt won’t mind?” Anderson said, leaning back against the headrest. When the pain flared in the back of his skull, he tilted forward. “Ow.”

  She reached a hand toward him. “Oh, God. It really hurts, doesn’t it?”

  He grimaced. “It could be worse. At least I’m not seeing double.”

  She flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Poor baby. And to answer your question, no. My Aunt Sunny won’t mind.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  She laughed. “First of all, she won’t get home ‘til eight tomorrow morning. She works at the paper. They do the overnight printing on third shift, and she oversees the whole operation.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. She’s pretty amazing.”

  “Does she care if you have men over when she’s not home?”

  Caroline giggled. “To tell you the truth, I think she’d encourage it, she’s a real free spirit. But I never asked if I could have a guy sleep over. It would have felt too weird.” She turned up a dirt road. “My aunt’s pretty liberal. She was a real lively hippie in her day.”