Authors: Dianne Yetman
“The answer is the same
.
No. Not now, not ever. Now
please set aside.”
He
didn’t move.
“I like a woman with spunk Kate. Turns me on.”
“I’m only going to repeat myself once. Get
out of my way. Now. Surely, t
he message’s simple enough to
get
through
to the tiny brain in
your muscle bound head.”
She watched as the red welt on his neck spread up his face. A direct hit.
“Nasty bitch, aren’t you. Get a kick out of putting men down.
Prefer women do you
, Kate?
Should have told me before this, leading someone on isn’t good manners.
”
She looked at
his
clenched fists
,
ran her eyes over his frame
and though he was a bodybuilder, her gut told her he wasn’t a fighter. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to push him any further. It was
t
ime to take control before things g
o
t out of hand.
She swung her gym bang onto her opposite shoulder,
moved her body sideways,
and stepped around h
im. She was reaching into her bag
for the car keys when she felt his hand slam down on her right shoulder and his fingers squeez
e
her muscles. Her inhibitions melted.
She grabbed his hand, pushed upwards, and slammed his palm into the bottom of his nose. Maintaining her grip
,
she twirled out from underneath him, drops of blood dripping through his hand onto her face, and spun him out on the sidewalk with the speed of the dentist’s drill.
The s
lam of his body
hitting sidewalk
was loud. She knelt down
to
determine the extent of his injuries
- a
bruised body, a bruised ego,
but no broken bones.
She whispered into his ear.
“Don’t e
ver come near me again. Hear?
Now, I’m going forget I ever saw you. I recommend you do the same.” She started to get up then leaned
down again.
“And you might want to think about changing your gym membership because I’m not changing mine.”
She pushed her way through the small knot of gathered people, got in the car and drove off. Moments later she hit her brakes hard
,
narrowly missing the car in front of her. The feel good moment of flipping the bastard like a pancake had dissipated.
How could she have been so stupid
, jeopardizing her
career over
the
jerk. Throwing civilians to the sidewalk wasn’t a career maker
especially after yesterday’s conversation with Gordon. She shuddered at the thought of this getting back to the precinct. If it did, she’d be toast. R
eaching into the console, she grabbed the bag of jelly beans and began a serious munch.
”
7:30pm
Any of the cas
t
and crew
watching Andrew, the Stage Manager, barrelling through the
brightly lit, twisted
backstage
hallway
,
ignoring everything
and anything
in his path
, knew something had gone seriously wrong. And that is
exactly what he wanted them to think.
He had
planned
it all out very carefully. Five minutes
earlier, he stood eyeballing the props table
, a frown on his f
ace. Then he bellowed for Ed,
who ran errands, cleaned the stage and dressing rooms, and
anything no one else wanted to do. His most important
job
, however, was looking after the props.
Knowing where Ed was
. D
uties finished
until the curtain went down
, he’d be in his small
back
room drinking tea and reading one of the westerns he loved
.
Andrew
walked over to the group of
actors standing nearby
and asked
if they had seen the silverware for the second act.
None had. Andrew risked a quick look to his left. Yes, the Board members were still standing outside the main dressing room.
He knew it was his only opportunity to make his mark. Board members did not attend the plays, even on the last night. They were here for the farewell toast that the Director of the Company, Jeffrey Stone, was giving to the cast and crew on stage before flying to New York to take over the reins of the Hamlet production from an ailing Director. He wasn’t expected to return.
Andrew wanted
Jeffrey’s job.
Rehearsals for the Christmas run of
Death of a Salesman
would have to start up soon. Director of the small company of actors and crew of the Strand Theatre was high on his list of acquisitions.
He wasn’t alone in his ambition. T
he
Strand’s
Producer, Henry Ward
was a strong contender
.
Descended from a long line of distinguished
Halifax
actors, he
had spent his free hours as a child
backstage; none was more familiar with the inner workings of the theatre. But
he didn’t have it in him to make a good Director.
Now, i
f only the Board members
agree.
Time to strike. Andrew
bellowed at the
group of
actors
standing in the hallway. They shook their heads. Had no idea
what had happened to the silverware. It worked
.
He
had
the attention of two of the Board members
. They walked towards him, looks of concern on both of their faces.
Andrew
, stressed but polite, filled them in on the missing props. They asked if they could help. He smiled and invited them to tag along. The three headed for Ed’s office.
He looked at his watch, picked up his pace, hoping to ratch up the urgency as the two Board Members struggled to keep up.
“
T
he curtain was due
to go up
on the final performance
in fifteen minutes
”, he said
.
“Ed better be in his cubbyhole, or there will be hell to pay”, he said.
They bought into his panic
a
s he
steam
ed
rolled his way
towards
the backstage exit.
He gave them a weak, thankful smile, talking all the while, as he made his way towards the very back of the theatre.
“
It’s nothing that would attract a thief. I
ts silver plated Wal-Mart, for Christ’s sake
.” He
picked up his
p
ace and then, without warning, braked to a full stop in front of a door adjacent to the exit sign.
H
e pushed
it
open so hard it banged up against the wall.
A startled Ed looked up
from his book. He didn’t know what was up but by the look on the men’s faces, he knew it wasn’t good. Just my shit
lady
luck, he thought
, n
ever, never
woul
d
she dance with me. Fo
r Ed was a hard working
with a sick wife and three sons who weren’t worth the dole they lived on. Ed pas
ted a sickly smile on his face and
waited for life’s blow. And
there was no doubt in his mind, a blow was coming.
“Damn you to hell Ed
” Andrew said. “I
f I had any sense at all I would fire you
this instant. And I’ll tell you what, if you don’t find the silverware missing from the prop table before the opening of the second act, I will fire you.
Now get off your skinny ass and go find it before the cast has to eat with their fingers.
”
Andrew watched him scurry away. It should take him no more than five minutes to find it.
And then it came, just as he hoped, the expected question.
“Why do you keep him on”, the tall, skinny one asked.
He smiled at the two worried looking men.
“Ed’s not that bad really. He
does his job the best he can but he’s not had an easy life. His wife took sick years ago and his sons are useless.
Jeffrey wanted him gone, but
I fought to keep him. Just didn’t have the heart to kick someone when they’re down.”
A hint of a smile on the skinny one’s face. The short, heavy one looked stern. “Are you willing to take the risk of no silverware because you feel sorry for the man.”
“Of course not. T
here’s no real
danger
, I spouted off to
a fire under Ed’s butt.
Can’t have him complacent. When I discovered the silverware was missing, I sent Brenda Parsons,
my assistant,
off to
Wal-Mart
i
n a taxi to p
ick up another set.
She should be back any moment.
I’ll return it tomorrow if Ed
turns up the missing one.”
The two men said nothing but Andrew knew he had their approval and the three of them headed back towards centre stage at a more
leisurely pace.
From the large, common dressing room, a chorus of
laughter, jokes, shouts,
and
curses meld
ed
together into a bizarre orchestration
of excitement
and spill
ed
out into the hallway.
It was music to Andrew’s ears
for he loved the
theatre, the excitement, the chaos,
the stress
. A
ll of it.
It
was the reason he got out of bed in the morning
and it was the reason he had
hood winked the
two bozos tagging along with him.
The theatre
and
the
D
irector’s chair
was centre
to his hopes
but not the only reason he got up in the morning. T
here was Rusty,
his
Golden Retriever
,
his Dashiell Hammett collection
, his
single malt whiskey and
until
a week ago,
there was
Stella.
Darling Stella, the bitch betrayer, who slept with the talent scout. The sleaziest schemer in town.
T
ime to
demonstrate how well thought he was by the cast and crew.
He
stu
ck his head in the door of the common
dressing room
,
waved
and shouted hello
, hoping for a big response. Not too bad. Some waved, said hello but
others didn’t notice him
; t
hey were too busy
jostling for mirror space,
applying makeup, or adjusting
their
costumes.
He continued on
, the two men rubber necking behind him,
pass
ing
more act
ors in the hallway, some
who were
pacing
,
others
rehearsing
their
lines,
and
the more introverted
, insecure
ones were
sitting
Zen
-like on chairs in empty rooms
.
F
rom the costume/design room, the shouts of two actors arguing over scene stealing assaulted
their
ears.
He ignored them and
winked at
the Board members a knowing wink.
Coming down the home stretch, a dressing room door opened
that Andrew was sure would
have stayed
shut until it was time for the toast. No such luck.
Charlotte Beauvoir, aka Big Mama,
stood centre hallway blocking his path,
motion unleashed -
emerald
costume
jewellery
on the move,
necklace
springing out from
the
fat
folds of her neck, dangling ear rings swinging two and fro
,
plastic rings on her right wrist clacking
and
her
ample, heaving bosom.