“How did this happen!?” Valerie looked and sounded fit to be tied. “How did a heavy light fixture fall onto the stage?”
Baxter had been visually scanning the stage floor as well as the lights from all angles. “There’s one sheared bolt in the center that must have been holding up the entire heavy fixture. The full assembly is missing four nuts and bolts,” he told her.
She grabbed her head. “Dear Lord. Somebody could have been killed! On my watch! This is utterly unacceptable!”
“It had to have been Sam, or one of his crew members,” John said. He was rocking Flint on his lap and feeding him treats. “I made a mistake insisting you hire him.”
A pair of stunned young men dashed onto the stage, followed by Felicity and Pippa. Her dog was barking at the fallen lights. It was unhelpful, but born from the same automatic startle mechanism that caused everyone else’s alarm and raised voices.
“Cancel tonight’s performance,” Greg said to Valerie. “If this had happened a few minutes earlier, we all could have been killed. All four of us had been standing front center stage.”
With her hands on her hips, Valerie was eyeing the two young men who’d rushed onto stage. “Who was in charge of maintaining the lights?”
The startled young men both cried, “Not me,” simultaneously. A third man stepped onto the stage behind them.
“Sam!” Valerie cried at the short, stocky man in his forties or so. “Is this your responsibility? Have you done safety checks on the lights?”
“You told me I couldn’t. Remember? We wanted to move the lights back a couple of feet last month. That electrician you hired did the work, the same week as when I came on board. If he forgot to fasten all the nuts but one, it sure as hell wasn’t my fault.”
“Valerie, you need to get the numbskull electrician back here and answer to me,” Hammond exclaimed. “I have high blood pressure. I could have had a heart attack!”
“We all could have gotten taken out,” Greg said again.
“Not unless you’d all been holding hands, precisely under the metal beam,” Sam said.
“Such a distinct lack of empathy you have for your fellow man, Mr. Geller,” Hammond told him, snidely. “And you aren’t even a self-absorbed actor like me. What’s your excuse?”
“The important thing is: nobody got hurt,” Valerie said.
“The second-most important thing is that nothing like this ever happens again,” John said. He glared at the three crew members. “I’ve seen all three of you up in the rafters one time or another. Someone must have loosened the screws...bolts...whatever. Unless the electrician that worked here last month was a total moron.”
“It’s a really solid bolt, though,” one of the young crewmembers said. “It could have been like this since it was first installed. Maybe the electrician figured it was up to code.”
“No qualified elec—”
“Look,” Sam said, interrupting John. “Truth of the matter is the buck stops here. Bob and Jim work under me. It was ultimately my responsibility. If you want to fire me, go ahead. But I can also point out that nobody was scheduled to rehearse at this particular time. This should have happened on an empty stage.” He gestured at the rafters. “You can see for yourself that nobody’s up there now with a crescent wrench.”
“That’s true,” Valerie said, her voice much calmer.
“You could get the sheriff out here to investigate,” Sam said to her. “If you want to take fingerprints to see if there are prints on the nut.”
“I’d need to get evidence from the missing nuts,” she muttered. “And it’s not like the electrician is going to cop to having found four nuts and bolts in his toolbox after leaving the theater.”
“So you want me and my crew to get new lights installed?” Sam asked. “Even though none of us are licensed electricians? Cuz’ that’s the only way you’re putting on a second show tonight.”
“What do you think, John?” Valerie asked.
“You’re the boss,” he grumbled.
“I don’t know what to do. But we definitely can’t reschedule,” Valerie said. “I guess we’ll have to just replace the lights and carry on. If I’d been on the stage, I’d have passed out with fright. If anybody wants to bow out, I’ll understand. We’ll bring in the understudies.”
John had risen and told Flint to lie down and stay. He was pacing with his fists clenched. “There’s no way Flint’s going on stage. Not under any circumstance. Not tonight.”
All eyes turned to me and Pavlov. “We’ll have to give Pavlov a shot, but we’ll have to rehearse with her from now ‘til curtain-time. She hasn’t rehearsed on this or any other stage even once.”
“Let’s just take care of this right now,” Sam said. “I’ll get this rewired and functional.” He looked at Valerie and grimaced. “I told you we should have updated the light fixtures.”
“There’s a big difference between saying something’s out of date versus potentially lethal,” Valerie retorted.
“Folks, you’re all going to be working with Pavlov playing Blue tonight,” John said.
I glanced over at Felicity and Pippa. Felicity was frowning and I think she would have much preferred getting to see her dog in the role again.
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to try Pippa, John?” I asked. “Pavlov’s never worked with the actual actors. All we’ve done is train her to understand the commands she’ll be given. But she was in her own backyard, and Baxter and I were playing two roles at once, along with a couple of dummies we made out of two coats, stuffed with pillows.”
“Perfect. Sally’s always called me a stuffed shirt,” Hammond quipped.
“I’m certain the dummies didn’t try to eat the scenery,” Sally rejoined.
“Pavlov will do fine,” John said. “If she can hit her marks...or targets, as you call them, she can’t possibly be worse than Pippa was on night two.”
“Pippa brought the house down on night two,” Felicity stated.
“And Sam just now brought the lights down on top of Flint. This is my play we’re performing. I’m the director. Does anybody here have a problem with that?”
An uncomfortable silence ensued. “Aye, aye, Captain,” Hammond said.
John’s and my gazes met. “We’ll get...an usher, a ticket taker, or whoever else we can find to rehearse the roles with you,” he said. “I’m taking Flint home, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Certainly in plenty of time for tonight’s show.”
Baxter and I exchanged glances.
“Okay,” I said. “As long as nothing else is going to fall from the rafters, we’ll get Pavlov to do the best she can under the circumstances.”
“Right,” Baxter said. “If the audience is told in advance that Blue is played by an understudy, it will be fine.”
“They will be,” Valerie said. “I’ll type up an insert for the programs and state openly that the part of Blue will be performed by Pavlov after an unexpected mishap.”
“Good,” John said. “Just be sure and tell the audience that Flint is fine and will resume his role on Tuesday.” He shifted his gaze to me. “The theater is dark tomorrow. We don’t put on shows on Mondays.”
I nodded, already well aware of the tradition. Flint was still panting. I saw that he was also shedding. He was still in a state of duress.
“I do have quite a bit of experience in calming traumatized dogs, John. Are you sure you don’t want to have Baxter train Pavlov for tonight’s performance and have me work with Flint for a while? If Sam and crew can get everything cleaned up and functional again, we might still have time to check to see if Flint can handle being on the stage.”
John looked down at Flint. He shook his head. “I want be with him when he’s freaked out like this.”
“Of course you do. I meant that the three of us should leave the building, then refocus his attention to something he excels at, such as a game of fetch. That will help him get his bearing.”
“Then who’s going to give
Pavlov her instructions during the makeshift rehearsal?”
“Baxter,” I repeated.
“Pavlov does well with me training him,” Baxter said reassuringly.
“We’ll help,” Sally said. “Karen? Gentlemen? Anybody willing to help the show go on by rehearsing with our new understudy?”
“You all need to clear the stage,” Sam said, already motioning at Karen and Greg to head for an exit. “I can’t have anybody walking below us. Last thing we need now is to boink a wrench off one of y’all’s heads.”
“We can move the rehearsal upstairs,” Karen said.
“Geez.” Greg grumbled, “We already gave up a chunk of our afternoon to do an extra scene. Now we’re supposed to work all evening and top it off with a second performance?”
“I’ll pay all of you for your rehearsal as if this was an additional performance,” Valerie said.
“That’s very generous of you, Valerie,” Karen said.
“I’m in, obviously,” Sally said. Greg thanked Valerie and said he’d just need a couple of minutes to clear his schedule. Hammond threw in a: “Me, too.”
“I hope this decision doesn’t backfire,” Baxter said. “Pavlov was traumatized, too. We’re asking a lot of her. And you’re the one who knows how to work with her.”
I squeezed his arm. “Pavlov works just as well with you as with me. You just need to remind her to hit her targets.”
“I just don’t think this is going to work for either dog.” John looked thoroughly rattled. “I don’t think we’ll get Flint to want to ever be on that stage again.”
“Let’s see how he does after I work with him. We have all day tomorrow and most of Tuesday to get him confident on this stage once again.”
“Okay. If you say so.” He turned his attention to Baxter and pointed at the spot where he had been cradling Flint. “I left my headset and Flint’s clip-on speaker over there, by the flat. Felicity can show you how to hook it up. We also have a backup set, in case it breaks. The script’s on the front-row seat where I was sitting.”
So they had two headsets for transmitting commands to Flint. That was another thing that I wondered about. Someone might simply be hijacking the verbal radio signals John was using.
John joined Flint. “I’ll meet you backstage, Allie,” John said. “C’mon, Flint,” I watched them walk away. Baxter, meanwhile, hopped down from the stage and joined Pavlov and me in the aisle.
“Sorry you’re taking the yeoman’s duty,” I said to Baxter. “I’ll get back here as soon as I can. Probably only in an hour. Flint’s already stopped shaking.”
“No worries.” He told Pavlov to come, and she promptly obeyed. “We’ll get right to work. Won’t we, girl?” he said to her. She wagged her tail.
I found John’s script and gave it to Baxter, gathered my things, and went to join John and Flint. There was neither hide nor hair of them. I went out the nearest exit, and all but tripped over Greg Gulliver. He was sitting on the metal grated steps smoking a cigarette, looking thoroughly relaxed. In the sunlight, it was quite obvious that he was younger than he appeared to be in stage makeup. He could still be in his late twenties or early thirties. “Oh, hi,” Greg said. He held up his cigarette. “I’m full of bad habits.” He took a long draw on his cigarette and puffed out a smoke ring, which quickly dissipated. “Too bad the poor dog had such a big scare. Good thing it was just lights and not a piano.”
“Too bad it wasn’t a pillow. Have you seen John and Flint?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. He said to tell you he’d be right back. He needed to take care of something before he forgot.” He took a final puff, then stubbed out his cigarette. “Have a seat.” He scooted over and patted the step beside him.
Now that we were talking one on one, he struck me as laid back and likable, and I quickly complied. “Did you get things cleared for the impromptu rehearsal?”
He made a comical grimace. “I didn’t actually have any conflicts. A white lie. I needed an excuse to justify grumbling about extra work.”
“Ah. I see. Can’t say as I blame you. I’m sure you don’t normally still have rehearsals during the run of the show itself.”
“No, but then, this is the first time I’ve worked with a dog in such a pivotal role.”
“Have you ever seen a big lighting fixture fall before?” I asked.
“Well, that’s how they bumped off a character in Birdman. But in real life, no. I’ve seen mishandling of guide wires, cables snapping and the actors falling, electrical units shorting, background flats crashing down in the middle of scenes. Things happen all the time.” He snorted. “Yet another reason a dog actor isn’t a good bet.” He chuckled sardonically. “John told me he was going to hype his show for high-school stagings, but with a kid in a dog costume.”
I let that image set in my head for a minute. It would never work for a professional troop. The majority of the humor was the interaction between the actors and an actual dog. “What’s your take on Flint? Do you think he’s just getting overstimulated on stage and forgetting his training?”
He shook his head. “I’m not really a dog person.” (No surprise here. And I’d bet anything Hammond was of the same mind.) “So right off the bat you’ve got to take that into consideration. But Flint rocks his part in rehearsals. Seriously. You can take that dog, go through your blocking assignments, run through your lines, every movement perfect. In the second act, I have this one line where I say: ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Then I’m supposed to trip over Blue. Each time, Flint’s in perfect position. One time he wasn’t...but then I realized, I had jumped the gun...delivered my line several lines too early. Flint hadn’t been given the cue through his earpiece. Our eyes met—the dog’s and mine—and he ran up behind me, to the exact spot on stage where he should have been for that line if I hadn’t screwed up.”
“So what could be causing this behavior in front of audiences?”
He paused and looked behind him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think John was giving him all the wrong cues.”
“I know what you mean, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Maybe Flint isn’t hearing John’s commands,” I said. “It’s possible someone has hacked the sound system...intercepted the signal.” John was driving up in his Jeep Cherokee. I stood up and turned to say something cordial to Greg, but he’d also risen and was heading back inside the theater.
John pulled up to the bottom step, along a dirt road between the building and a river.
“Let’s go,” John said through the rolled-down window. From my angle, I could see that Flint was lying down with his eyes closed. I didn’t know if his falling asleep so quickly was a good sign or a bad sign.
“See you later, Greg.”
He held up his hand in acknowledgment.
I descended the stairs. “Can I ride in back with Flint?” I asked. “It’s a bad precedent to set, but I want to—”
“No need,” John interrupted. “He’s asleep. I gave him a tranquilizer.”
Chapter 4
“What?” I was stunned that John—that any dog owner, for that matter—would medicate their pet simply because he’d been badly startled. For a moment, I actually thought he was joking, but his expression didn’t change. I struggled to hold my voice down, because Greg was in earshot. “Why did you do that?”
“He was going bananas when I put him in the car. Like nothing I’ve ever seen. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself.”
My heart was pounding. “But, John, you knew I was going to help him work through this. And you knew I was right here.” I looked up at Greg, who was staring straight ahead as if he couldn’t see us. “All you needed to do was tell Greg, ‘Get Allie.’ He’s been sitting right there.”
“Yeah, but...you should have seen Flint!”
I managed not to growl: I would have seen him if you’d just spoken up! “Why did you even have tranquilizers on hand?”
“From Felicity. She left them when she moved out. She asked me
to bring them to her a while back. I stuck them in the glove box and forgot about them. She used to have to give Pippa one in order to fly with her. I figured Flint is two and a half, three times bigger than she is. It’s like giving him a third of a dose.”
After considering my limited options, I decided to get into the car. I got into the passenger seat. “The thing is, John, now it’s meaningless if I try to divert his attention and get him to play with me. It’s also meaningless if he goes on stage tonight, because, even if he’s flawless, he’s been doped. He will behave differently in subsequent performances when he isn’t under the influence.”
While I was talking, John had set his jaw and was driving, obviously not agreeing that what he’d done was highly irresponsible. Maybe this was the cause of Flint’s performance anxiety. Maybe he was being doped on a regular basis. “Have you given him any un-prescribed drugs before?”
“No, Allie. Of course not. This is the first time ever. I swear.”
“So be straight with me. A tranquilizer would normally take at least fifteen, twenty minutes to take effect. You had to have had it on you. And given it to him almost immediately after the lights fell.”
He was grinding his teeth now. I said nothing, staring at him in profile.
“Okay, fine, Allie. You caught me. The truth is, yeah, Felicity asked me to return Pippa’s tranquilizers, like I said. That’s what put the thought in my head. I was contemplating giving him a fraction of a dose tonight. To help him get over his stage fright.”
I balled my fists and tried to keep my voice steady and low. “I see. Surely you realize, though, that doing so would have undermined my work completely. Is there any reason for me to be here?”
“Yes! I was going to discuss it with you first, Allie. I was going to wait and see how things went. And if everything really is as big a mess as I think it is, I was going to get your approval prior to giving him a tranquilizer.”
“Well, it was not a wise thing to do under today’s circumstances. We’ll have to wait and see how he seems to be handling the dose you gave him. At least he’s not going on stage. But I’m not a fan of drugs to manipulate a dog’s behavior. If that’s what’s necessary to get a dog on stage, he shouldn’t be on stage to begin with.”
Dog Drama Page 4
