Body on the Stage (24 page)

He held her gaze and started
doing some moves from the strip routine she’d designed for him,
while pulling the bottom of his shirt free and slowly sliding it
off. It was only meant as a joke, but when he saw her eyes widen
and her lips part there was nothing on earth that could have
stopped him from crossing the room and taking her in his arms for a
passionate kiss. When they broke free, both were breathing
heavily.

“Who knew I was such a good
choreographer?” she gasped. “That routine really works for you,
Dennis! It certainly worked for me!”

He kissed her again. “Here are
some moves I came up with myself,” he murmured in her ear. “See
what you think.”

Their lingering clinch was
interrupted by a knock from an apologetic staff member.

“Oh! Sorry, Cathy, but can you
spare a moment to talk to Detective Senior Sergeant Matherson? He’s
at reception.” She disappeared as rapidly as she’d arrived. Cathy
and Dennis looked at each other.

“I wonder what he wants,” she
said, frowning.

He shrugged. “Better go and
see.” Cathy went out while Dennis stayed behind for a few moments
to put his shirt back on. When he joined her at the reception
counter Jack’s eyebrows went up.

“Ah, Dennis,” he said, conveying
rather more meaning than Dennis was comfortable about. The man
couldn’t see through walls, could he?

“Yes?”

Jack laughed. “Don’t look like
that! I’m just practising the skills of my trade, that’s all. We’re
trained to notice smudges of lipstick and inside-out clothing.”
Dennis looked down at his shirt but couldn’t see anything wrong –
only realising as he met Jack’s amused gaze that he’d fallen into
his simple trap. “Don’t worry,” said Jack. “I’m only here to return
the sample dumbbell and to ask Cathy for a full membership
list.”

“Here you are, Jack,” Cathy
pulled the pages from the printer, stapled them together, and
handed them over. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully,
“that should just about do it, thanks. I’ll get a few beat guys to
interview these people, very diplomatically of course, and that
will be that.” He headed towards the stairs, throwing an airy “Get
back to what you were doing,” over his shoulder with a chuckle.

“Come on Dennis,” said Cathy,
smiling. “Don’t let him throw you off your stride. It’s just the
way he works. Let’s go and do your measurements.”

He allowed himself to be towed
back to the cubicle where she ran a tape measure over his body with
considerably more contact than the first few times she’d done
it.

“Just look at your biceps,” she
cooed. “And you’re getting a lovely flare on your lats.” She ran
her hands down the edges of his back from shoulder to waist.

“Oh, is that where the lats are?
I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Lateral dorsal muscle, aka
latissimus dorsi
– gives men that nice triangular shape,
wide at the top and tapering down to a neat butt.” She patted his.
“Just like that one. You really haven’t got too much more body fat
to lose.”

He looked down. “Just the
belly,” he sighed. “It still sticks out more than I want.”

“Don’t worry, it’s always the
last bit of fat to disappear. Feel sorry for us women – we lose the
fat from all the good places before our bellies finally shrink.
It’s heartbreaking to watch nice rounded boobs deflate just so we
can get rid of the pudgy tummy.” She handed him his exercise
booklet. “I’ve given you more cardio to work off the fat, and these
weights will give a final boost to your muscles. If you want to get
really serious, eat your carbs early in the day, and increase your
protein intake with an extra hit straight after your workout. And
let me know when to schedule your ‘after photo’ session. It would
be good to get it done just before the show opens when you look
your very best.”

“You’ll just do it here, won’t
you? We can fit that in any old time.”

“Oh no, your ‘after photo’
requires far more professional skill than I can muster with my
little point and shoot compact camera. We use a local guy with a
studio just round the corner – he’s got all the lights and
backdrops to do a proper job. He shoots the body-building contests
as well so he’s got lots of experience in photographing muscles to
show them off to their best advantage. He’s even got weights there
for you to get pumped up beforehand, and if you take some red wine
with you, you’ll get the veins to stand out well.”

Dennis shuddered. “Not really
the look I’m going for, and I’m not a big fan of red wine either.
But the rest of it sounds all right I suppose. It’s not for another
three weeks anyway. Perhaps I’ll have my head around the idea
better by then.” He shook his head, smiling. “Who would have
thought I’d be discussing a photo-shoot of my body, considering how
I looked when I first came in here!”

“And that’s why I put you
through the agony of taking your picture then, so you’d have a
record of your starting point. It’ll also come in handy to show
people you meet later who never met the fat Dennis, otherwise they
won’t believe the transformation.” She tapped on her computer
keyboard. “Come round here and look at this. I think it’s time for
you to see it now.” She brought up his photo and Dennis groaned
aloud at the vision.

“My God, look at the size of me!
What a dumpling! I look like I wanted to sink through the floor,
don’t I? That is seriously unattractive, isn’t it?”

“Now turn and look in the
mirror.”

He obeyed, studying himself in
the full-length mirror on her office wall, nodding gently as his
eyes roved across his reflection. “OK,” he said thoughtfully,
“that’s not too bad, is it?” A slow smile lit his face. “No wonder
you were so eager to get me into shape. Did you know it was going
to work this well?”

“Of course,” she said airily.
“That’s my job.”

“Ah. Just your job. Yes, of
course it is.” He pulled on his shirt. “Well, I’d better go and
carry on my part of the process.” He headed for the door.

“Dennis,” she said softly.

“Yes?” He paused.

“You’re more than just a job to
me – you know that, don’t you?” The warmth in her eyes set his
heart leaping.

Riding a tide of adrenaline, he
flew through his workout lifting the heavy weights as if they were
sponge. He even did a full practise of his strip routine, adding in
a couple of extra moves and flourishes. He might actually get to
perform it to an appreciative audience of one if things were going
this well.

As he left to head over to the
theatre, he saw Mark’s girlfriend Sherry going towards Cathy’s
office, looking pale and frightened. He followed her to see if
there was anything he could do to help.

“Sherry?” She shook her head
mutely at him but put a hand on his arm, which he took as
permission to enter the office with her.

“Hi Sherry, what can I do for
you?” Cathy said, her voice changing from bright and breezy to
quiet and concerned as soon as she saw Sherry’s face. “Here, come
and sit down,” she said gently.

“Is everything all right?” asked
Dennis, perching on a corner of the desk.

“Not really, by the look of
things,” Cathy murmured to him. “How can we help, Sherry?”

Sherry perched on the edge of
her seat, clutching her handbag on her lap. She turned wide,
tearful eyes on them. “Can I ask you something, please? I need to
get in touch with any family Vincenzo might have. Do you know a
contact address for anyone?”

“Let me check his employment
form – hold on a moment.” Cathy slid open a file drawer and flicked
through the rack. “Here we are.” She pulled out a printed sheet and
scanned it quickly. “Next of kin…oh, no, I’m afraid he left that
blank. I remember now, he said he had no relatives in this country
and that he was estranged from his father back in Italy so there
was no point in filling in that question.” She looked up at
Sherry’s low moan. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

Sherry shook her head and bolted
from the office, leaving Cathy and Dennis looking at each other in
confusion.

“What was that about?” said
Cathy.

“No idea. Maybe she’s been
taking the suspect protein powder as well and it’s affected her
moods.”

“Let’s hope she snaps out of it
once the effects wear off. It seems to really mess people about,
doesn’t it?”

“No argument here. Right then,”
he said, “since my services don’t seem to be required to ride to
the rescue of a damsel in distress, I shall take myself off to
rehearsal instead. Will you be joining us down at the Regent
Theatre tonight?”

“Yes, I’ll see you over there.
Let’s hope Mark behaves himself tonight. Another walk-out like last
night and Adam will give him the flick and put someone else in the
role.”

“Let’s hope all three of them
are calmer. The constant scrapping and fighting is really getting
old now – even the stage crew are noticing. They already consider
actors to be volatile and unreliable and this isn’t doing anything
to dispel that view.” Dennis pushed himself off the desk. “With a
bit of luck the guys will all calm down now that they’re not taking
those allegedly improper substances, and life will return to
whatever passes as normal in that crazy little old theatre.”

The rehearsal seemed to go
smoothly enough, from what he could hear as he busied himself with
minor chores in the workshop. The same lines were repeated, the
same bits of music were played, and no voices were raised in anger
except where it was scripted.

At the interval everything went
silent. There were no voices onstage, and he couldn’t hear any of
the crew either. He went backstage to the Green Room and was
surprised to find the whole company there sharing in a table laden
with food.

“What’s the occasion?” he asked
Tony. “Is it somebody’s birthday?” Tony swallowed a mouthful of
cake and brushed away the crumbs.

“No mate, just the first of the
Green Room suppers. Once rehearsals get this far along, we have a
lovely lady called Erica who comes along and makes the tea and
provides us with all these goodies – out of the show’s budget, of
course. That’s her over there.” He pointed to a short, motherly
woman across the room. “Come on, get stuck in mate, you’re looking
awfully thin these days. Can’t have you fading away.”

Tony pushed him towards the
table where Dennis was pleased to see a fruit platter among the
biscuits and sweet slices. He helped himself to a few grapes and
looked around to see if Cathy had arrived yet, but he couldn’t spot
her in the crowd.

“Oh, bananas!” exclaimed Adam,
swooping down on the fruit platter. “Erica, you are a marvel –
thank you!”

Dennis stepped back out of the
way and felt a toe under his foot. He turned quickly.

“Oh, sorry! Are you OK?”

Anger flared in Mark’s eyes but
only for a moment. “Yeah, fine,” he said. “How are things with you,
Dennis? Sorry I haven’t been training with you lately but I’ve had
a few things to deal with, you know how it is.” He managed a smile.
“You’re looking pretty good – I don’t think you’ve suffered in my
absence.”

“Thanks. I’m still getting used
to the new look – can’t quite believe it. Did you go through that?
Having a whole new image of yourself?”

“Not in the way you’re
thinking,” said Mark cryptically, and walked away. Dennis was
disappointed that he hadn’t had a chance to ask how Sherry was. He
shrugged and made his way back to the workshop where it was
peaceful.

Once the music started for the
dance routines he slipped through to the auditorium, taking the
same seat he’d had last time, well out of the spotlight. There were
no actors missing tonight so he’d be able to watch the routines
from his seat and, he hoped, pick up the moves and memorise them.
He looked around for Cathy and felt a stir of unease when he
couldn’t see her. Adam, too, was looking round the darkened
theatre, and Dennis hoped he wasn’t preparing a telling-off for the
absent choreographer.

The first piece of strip music
started and there was a muffled curse from high overhead. Dennis
looked up to see Warwick hanging from a rope through the round hole
in the ceiling, struggling to free the hood of his yellow slicker
which had caught on a piece of timber.

“Is there somebody up there to
help him?” Adam’s voice projected forcefully skywards and Fenton’s
pale face appeared in the hole.

“Getting it,” he said. In
moments, Warwick swung free and began his descent.

“Hold it,” called Adam. “Can we
restart the music please?”

Warwick hung on tightly while
the soundman located the appropriate track and hit play. At the cue
he recommenced his slide downwards, landing with a jump right on
the beat. He looked around the empty seats with a dazzling smile,
slipping his yellow jacket off one shoulder then the other before
sprinting towards the stage.

Dennis didn’t see what happened
after that because Cathy slipped into the seat beside him and
grabbed his arm, holding it as if she’d never let it go.

“What’s the matter?” he
whispered. “Are you all right?”

Her eyes were huge in the dim
light. He could feel her shaking.

“Cathy? What’s happened?”

There was a terse “Quiet
please!” from Adam, so Dennis took her by the hand and led her into
the corridor outside. In the brighter light he could see she was
deathly pale. She took a deep breath and he could see her forcing
herself to relax.

“There were some guys, outside
the gym. Two of them. They came towards me as if they wanted to
talk to me, but I didn’t like they way they looked. Something about
their eyes…” she broke off, struggling for the words.

“Two men? What did they do? Are
you all right?” Dennis looked her over carefully, searching for
injuries.