“You got it, Bub.” He turned the meter on and started the journey. “Look who’s in my cab. Mr. Don’t Spare the Horses, how have you been?”
Glancing up, I saw the cabbie who drove me back to the gym after my aborted attempt to murder Mark Galos. If I understood then what I know now, a great deal of anguish could have been avoided. “I’m doing fine, how about you?” Normally, I tend to keep to myself. I am not one for idle chit chat, but on this drive, it is fine by me. My nerves are starting to get the better of me and keeping up my half of the conversation should prove to be a distraction. “Say, how did you get to the house so quick?”
“It was easy. I dropped someone off a few doors down a moment ago, so I was right there when the call came in over the radio.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. He smiled and nodded. “Going to the theater by yourself? What, the little woman doesn’t want to go? I always enjoy the theater. Getting too pricey for us working stiffs, though. You know what I mean?” This gentleman kept nattering on. He is holding down both sides of the conversation. It is entertaining in a strange kind of way.
The time went by quickly, which is unusual considering the fabric of space-time in this city hasn’t changed. We pulled up to the theater’s backdoor. As I climbed out of the taxi, my head swam. Popping a few of the glucose tabs I always keep on me, I wondered if all the stress of working a crazy number of hours and being the lead of this production is starting to get to me. I reached for my wallet, but before I could pay the man, he drove off. I’ll call the cab company tomorrow and arrange to pay.
The backdoor man signed me in and told me to break a leg. I still don’t know the origin of the phrase. The janitor’s closet will be my dressing room, I guess. It is as I left it. I wonder if they still want me to clean tomorrow. My costume is not here. Theresa must still have it down in her little dungeon. Everyone is starting to file in, and the backstage is getting a little crowded. It feels like I am swimming upstream and trying to maneuver through the throng going the opposite way. There is a definite energy and excitement in the air.
“Hey, you. Is my costume ready?” I asked Theresa as she was slumped over a shirt she was working on.
She looked up at me and smiled, but I could tell she had been crying. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Yes, Nathan. Here it is.” She stood and took down the costume from its place in the sewing room. “Quick, put it on, so I can do any last-minute adjustments.”
“Okay. Turn your back please.” I repositioned the mirror, so she couldn’t sneak a peek again.
“Spoil my fun,” she mocked.
“If you’re interested in gazing at my behind, I saw a xerox machine in the office. I can run you off a copy.” I heard Theresa giggle at my statement. After turning back around, I adjusted the mirror, so I could look at myself. Not bad. I make a decent rendition of Don Quixote de la Mancha. I should be a little taller and a great deal thinner, but not bad.
“Can I see?” Asked Theresa as she turned around. I grunted an affirmative. She stepped forward and started smoothing here and tugging there at the raiment. She began mumbling to herself. I didn’t catch all of it. They were mostly verbal notes to herself. She found an errant thread. Leaning in, she went to bite the thread short. This action put her mouth quite close to my chest. She inhaled deeply and softly crooned.
Gently, I reached up with both hands and clasped her arms. Firmly, I pushed her away. “Theresa, you are a lovely girl,” The Mac Davis song “Baby, Don’t Get Hooked on Me” started playing in my head. Girl, you’re getting that look in your eyes… I hushed the music. “I’m married, but more importantly, I love my wife.”
“All playing aside, Nathan. I know. It’s nice to dream a bit now and then. If you didn’t love your wife?”
“I don’t pursue relationships I know could never work out. You’re a sweet, beautiful woman, but I am old enough to be your,” I hesitated a moment to do the math. “Your older brother. Yes, your older brother.” Theresa spurted a tiny laugh. “Outside of a physical attraction, we would have little in common. I have never been one of those men who pursue younger women. I have no desire to fulfill a young woman’s need to find daddy. You’ll find the right guy someday.”
“Nathan, who says I am looking for a daddy? I have a rather loving and caring father. To put a little emphasis on the point, I am quite happy without a fulltime man in my life. I am only hoping for a little fun,” she said, widening her eyes and batting her lashes as she said “fun.”
I feel a bit embarrassed. Who knew Theresa only wanted to have fun? In my mind, a Cyndi Lauper song barely started when I quashed it. “Theresa, why are you crying? Is there anything I can do?”
“No. I get blue sometimes, especially when I think about my career. I was the understudy for the part of Dulcinea. I was good, too. When our original Dulcinea left the production, I thought I would be a shoo-in for the part until Isabella showed up. Now, I am stuck down here with all the blown hems, ripped seams, and pit stains.” She put a smile on her face, looked at me and said, “Come, you need to put your makeup on. I need better light than this dark prison has to offer.” She led me to the dressing room abandoned by the rat who ran out on the production. As before, she applied the makeup skillfully and without a hint of inappropriate touching. Leaning in to adjust my hair, her breasts were kind of in my face. If she had a bust like my wife, I would have gotten a couple of black eyes. To avoid any awkward moments, I closed my eyes and pretended I wasn’t I little bit tempted. She finished her work in short order. “Take a look. Now, that’s how Don Quixote looks!”
Spinning in my chair to face the make-up mirror, I saw she was right. There in the reflection is Don Quixote de la Mancha. I look the part, but can I play the part? “Not bad. You have an artful touch with the greasepaint and brushes.” There came a knock on the door. Theatrically I said, “Enter!”
Matt stuck his head in the door. “Here’s an earpiece in case you freeze or forget something. I will prompt you over the radio.” Matt looked at his watch. “Okay, fifteen minutes until curtain. Nathan, don’t forget to take Isabella her roses and help her dress.”
“Matt, I figured with me taking the lead, I wouldn’t have to do the roses and the dressing.”
“You would think so, but she insisted. She pointed out she has a contract, and so do you.”
Theresa made a gasping sound and said, “I got it, Nathan. You relax and get your head in the game.”
Matt spoke up, “Sorry, Theresa, she thought you might try to step in. She insisted Nathan help her.”
I rose, and said, “It is too close to curtain to argue about.” As I made my way to the dressing room door, I heard Theresa say “Bitch” none too softly. The roses were waiting for me at the backstage door. After retrieving them, I rushed to Isabella’s dressing room. I knocked.
“Come in, Nathan.”
I opened the door as far as I could without crossing the threshold. Ms. Cursed Barbie doll turned its head and looked right at me. No longer pretending for my benefit, huh? I steadied myself for the headache to come, I crossed the threshold into the room. No headache, not even a twinge. Looking straight at the doll, I said, “Playing nice today. What gives?”
Isabella looked up at the doll from her place and the dressing mirror. “Yes, I’ll tell him. She says she will play nice if you do.”
“It talks to you? Please, tell me no,” I pleaded.
“Yes, she does.” Isabella cocked her ear toward Headache Barbie. “She wants me to apologize for the other day.”
“Well, okay. Apology accepted.” I don’t know what it’s playing at, but niceties aside, it has to go. “Here are your roses.” Isabella took them with her gloved hand. A wince crossed her face as she took hold of the flowers. She set them in the waiting vase. Her costume is on a hanger across the room, so I went to retrieve it.
Isabella tried to undress and make ready for her costume, but only working with one hand was not cutting it. I took up her hand and said, �
�Allow me.” I unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. I am all business. It is difficult. She does have a nice bosom after all. Next, I helped her off with her slacks. After all that uncomfortable undressing, helping her dress is a relief.
Through the earpiece, I heard Matt say, “Five minutes, Nathan. Get to your mark.” I excused myself. A moment after I left Isabella’s dressing room, I heard a muffled cry of pain. Checking my make-up in the abandoned dressing room, I need to see if all the sweating I imagined doing ruined my make-up. It is fine. I can’t wait here. I feel too antsy. The green room is my goal as I walked out of the dressing room. Other members of the cast are waiting there also. When I stepped in, everyone started a chorus of “Break a leg.” Before I joined the cast, the general feel from everyone was depressed and resigned. Now, there is enthusiasm and anticipation.
“Mr. Embers, may I call you Nathan?” Dana asked. Dana plays one of the scullery maids. I nodded. “I am wondering, all of us really, will you be coming to the cast party after tonight’s performance. It should be a blast. Everyone will be letting off some steam. This production had been a real downer until you joined.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not a party kind of guy. Next time.”
Dana stated, “The production ends tonight. There won’t be a next time.” I smiled and nodded at her.
The gentle murmuring quiet of the green room is broken by the overture starting. Everyone started moving with purpose but me. I stood and listened. The horns blasted a herald of welcome to the noblest of knights. Next, tambourines and trumpets combined to sound as the hoofbeats of a charger. Then, the flutes took the lead in the phrase from the song “Man Of La Mancha.” The orchestra was being led by gentle and tender clarinets playing a loving phrase from the song “Dulcinea.” The horns began to blast harsh and tragic music to announce the change of tone. A classical guitar strummed the beginning of the song “Aldonza.” In a mocking counterpoint, the clarinets joined in. Next, led by gentle French horns, the phase from the quintessential song from Man of La Mancha, “The Impossible Dream,” began. While the orchestra played the melody, I mouthed the words and blazed the meaning in my heart. The finale of the overture started to build. I was so distracted by the enthralling music; I nearly missed my entrance.
That’s my cue. It’s showtime. In my thoughts, I heard Ambassador Kosh, from Babylon 5, say, ‘And so it begins.’
The whole cast, I included, is performing the show like we are enjoying it. This is what has been missing from this production all along. If only the cast had been playing it like this from the beginning, I never would have been put in the position to try to save the day.
When I stepped off the stage for the “Abduction” scene, I headed for the green room for some water. I started chugging it down. In my mind, I heard Adam Sandler as Bobby Boucher from The Waterboy say, Now, that’s what I call high-quality H2O. A scream let loose through the theater. During the rape scene, Aldonza screams, but this one came from somewhere backstage. Dropping the water, I rushed to the sound of fright-filled agony.
In the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, I came across Dana on the floor, scrambling away from the looming presence of Mr. Shadowman. He conveyed an even more threatening presence somehow. “Can’t stand people in good cheer, can you?” Taking up a position to protect Dana, I threw my will against this two-dimensional aberration. Mr. Shadowman laughed as it grew closer. It is close enough I could touch it if I stretched. I drew the prop sword at my side to offer some form of resistance. It bellowed a deep throaty laugh. The dressing room doors opened on both sides of the hall, bracketing the creature in bright light. An unearthly scream filled my mind. Heads popped out from both dressing rooms looking up and down the hallway. Mr. Creepy turned and faced the cast member on his right, Martin. I could not see Mr. Shadowman anymore as he was edge on to me. Martin screamed in surprise and fright; he disappeared back into his dressing room. Martin was no longer in the doorway, and thus more light poured into the hallway. Again, the creature thundered agony in my mind, then the monster must have retreated because the feeling in the air was lighter.
Applause filled the air as the first act ended. Helping Dana up, I asked, “Are you alright?”
“That, that thing was going to attack me!”
Trying to reassure her, “I don’t think it can hurt you. Scare the crap out of you, sure.”
“Scare the crap out of me? I’ll say. I think I need to change my panties.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll let you handle that by yourself,” I said. Dana thanked me and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
The whole cast began filling the backstage area. Questions could be heard like: What went on back here? Is everyone okay? Dana began telling the cast what had happened, and what I did. I tried to shrug it off, but Dana insisted, “You are amazing. You were like Don Quixote coming to my rescue.”
Matt is in the crowd listening to all this when he spoke up, “Okay, people. The excitement is over. Remember, we have a show to finish.” Matt waited until the mob left to get ready for the second act. “Nathan, thanks for what you did. You saved our bacon a second time. Theater people can be a little superstitious. On more than one occasion, I thought the cast was going to break up over the shadow. I’ve been trying to downplay whatever it is, but it’s been tasking this whole production from the beginning. In a way, I am glad the production is winding down. I won’t have to deal with whatever it is anymore.” Matt put a hand to his earpiece and turned away from me. He started nodding his head as if the person on the other end could see him agree. “Okay.”
“Matt, is everything alright?” I asked.
Matt put his hand to the radio on his belt. I could hear a click over my earpiece. “Everyone get to your places. We are about ready to start the second act. Tom, flash the house lights. In five minutes, after the orchestra is seated, bring down the house lights.”
I heard all this firsthand and, my earpiece, which chirped in the sound of feedback, all but blew my eardrum. Giving Matt a thumbs up, I headed to my mark. The second act went great. After the curtain closed, we all filed into place for the curtain call. I stepped out, and the cheers rose in volume, and to my surprise, people started rising from their seats in a standing ovation. Even my make-believe audience didn’t give me the big standing O. I am overwhelmed. Maybe performing is my calling.
The audience stayed standing through the curtain call for the whole cast. I’m glad, the cast deserved it. When Isabella took my hand during the curtain call, she gave out a cry of pain. Her gloved hand is soaking wet. Backstage I looked at my hand, and it is covered in foul-smelling purple pus. I wanted to confront Isabella, but the crowd was too big. The cheers of excitement filled the green room and all of backstage. Matt had arranged for Champagne and hors d’oeuvres to be everywhere. I guess the cast party is getting started a little early. Theresa elbowed her way through the crowd toward me. In her hands, two Champagne flutes filled with the bubbly. She handed one to me and smiled. While taking a sip, her eyes never left mine. I put the glass to my lips, but I didn’t drink. I am keeping my promise to my mother, and Champagne tastes awful.
Matt stood up on a chair and started ringing his glass with a fork. The crowd hushed-up and waited. “I would like to propose a toast.” Some smart ass threw a piece of bread at Matt. I was ticked I hadn’t thought of it. “Funny, Norman, we all know you did a stint on The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Anyways, I think we should all give a hardy thank you to the man of the hour. Me.” The cast pronounced numerous boos and jeers. “No, in all seriousness, Nathan, you picked this cast up and gave us the chance to leave this city and production on a high note.” Another joker in the cast yelled out, “High C.” Everyone is a comedian. Matt continued, “I give you Nathan Embers.” Everybody lifted their glass and drank to the toast. Matt stepped down and made his way through the gathering to Theresa and me. “Nathan, this place is going to be a mess by the end of the night. Go ahead and come in an hour or two late tomorrow to do the clea
ning. You can get some extra rest. You deserve it. Take your time doing the work. If you need to put in some overtime to get it all done, I’ll clear it with accounting.”
“Thanks, Matt. I am going to take my leave. Home awaits, and parties aren’t my thing.”
Matt yelled out, “People, our man of the hour must leave for home.” The whole throng objected. “No, people. We need to respect his wishes. While you guys will be sleeping off tonight’s indulgences, he has to come back here tomorrow and clean up this mess.” More objections filled the air, but eventually, they all wished me well.
I headed for the backstage door but stopped long enough to wash the make-up off first. Stepping out the door, I pulled my phone out to call a cab. Before I punched the last number, a cab pulled up. The passenger side window rolled down. “Hey, Bud, you looking for a cab?” I recognized the voice. It is my friend from my earlier taxi ride.
“Wow, what a coincidence. Yes, I am.”
The cabbie said, “Hop right in. Heading back home?”
“Yes, I am, and don’t spare the horses.” The cabbie chuckled, and we peeled-out.
Once we arrived home, I said, “Okay, you left before I could pay you earlier today. I need to pay you for my previous ride too. So, what’s the damage?”
The cabbie spoke, “Your money is no good here.”
“You’re the second person to say that to me recently. Is Karma paying you? I don’t like not paying my way.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Bud. Your money is no good.” I want to argue, but I am so tired. I didn’t have the strength. As I started to exit the cab, everything started to spin, and I started to feel hot. When I opened the door, I tumbled out. I fumbled for my glucose tabs. Laying there on the concrete, I managed to spill most of them, but I did get a few in my mouth. After a minute of lying there like a man who had too much to drink, I sat up. The cab and driver were nowhere to be found. What the Hell?
The Calling Page 14
