“That’s Lucinda Gayle’s assistant.”
“The costume designer?” I asked. “I thought she retired.”
“She had retired,” Aarya told us. “She’s come out of retirement to design the costumes for this show.”
“And what was that guy’s name?” Katherine asked, watching as the man still stomped away.
“Lucinda Gayle’s assistant. I don’t know if he has a real name,” Aarya said, with no hint of humor.
I stifled a giggle, but the woman with the tape measure almost lost it at that one. Over the next twenty minutes, all three “ghosts” were measured and sent back into rehearsal. Since the three of us had most of our scenes together, we were kept on the same rehearsal track. We went from dancing, to singing, to line work as a group. Not that our group had much to work with yet. There was the opening song, which we were all part of…maybe. Apparently, there was a debate on whether we should be part of the chorus on the first song since we were needed elsewhere as soon as the song ended. So, we practiced the harmonies on the song, but were told we’d probably never sing them again once everything ironed out.
We had one number that was firmly in place. The second musical number was a jazzy ditty titled “Christmas, Nothing but a Merchant’s Holiday.” We were told not to get too attached to the song because it could easily be gone by noon the next day.
This show was a train wreck of epic proportions, and no one knew how to right the thing or jump off. At precisely 5:00 p.m., Maeve McKenna went around the theater to ensure no one was still working.
“The union contract says eight hours a day. So, we work only eight hours a day. If they want us for more hours, they can negotiate that with the union,” McKenna said when someone tried to stop her.
Honestly, it was nice that she’d taken the Equity Deputy position, but we might as well have given her a tin star and a cowboy hat, because she sure saw herself as the sheriff around these here parts.
After rehearsal, I ran back to my apartment for a quick nap, a shower, and a costume change before my date. Of course, Bootsy had other ideas. As soon as I opened my apartment door, he bolted between my legs. Thankfully, he didn’t go very far. He sped down the hall and right into Carissra and Kirk’s place.
“Hello?” I called and knocked on their door. The door was open, which is how Bootsy got inside. “Anyone here? Your door was open?”
“Come on in,” a voice called from within the apartment. I walked in past the kitchen on the right, then into the living room.
“He’s in here, Erika,” Carissra called from a semi-shut door, which I assumed would be her bedroom.
I walked over and pushed it open. Sure enough, Bootsy had gone in there, climbed into Carissra’s lap, and made himself at home.
“Little Traitor!” I said as I reached down to pet Bootsy on the head. “He really likes you. And Bootsy isn’t known for liking many people.”
“He wanted some time with me, I guess.”
“Well, I really need to get Bootsy back home and fed. I have a date tonight, so I need time to freshen up after rehearsal.”
“Carissra, why is the front door standing wide open?” Kirk’s voice bellowed from the kitchen.
Grabbing Bootsy up, I yelled, “Sorry, it’s my fault. Bootsy jetted from my house when I got home and came over here to visit.” Seeing Kirk, I lifted a not-too-happy Bootsy as proof that I wasn’t a deranged thief.
“Definitely brings up a new interpretation for the phrase ‘cat burglar,’ doesn’t it?” Kirk asked. “Oh wow, that was a totally horrific dad joke,” he said when he realized how corny the joke was once it had left his lips.
“Sorry, no takebacks on that one. You aged twenty years with that one,” I said with a smile.
“Do you have plans this evening? I’m making…something. And I know it will be food. Beyond that, I haven’t figured out my cooking plans yet. I came back from grocery shopping, so I know the house has food.”
“And furniture!” I said, finally realizing the place had gotten furnished.
“The movers got here on Tuesday evening. I already left them a one-star review on Yelp.”
“As for dinner, I wish I could,” I said genuinely. “I’m seeing a show then having dinner tonight.”
“She has a date, Kirk,” Carissra said, rolling into the room to join us. “She needs to get home to change, and little Bootsy there was trying to slow her down.”
“That he was,” I said.
I looked at Kirk for a second, who looked sullen before he shot me a winning smile. “I hope you have a great time. What’s the show?”
“I’m seeingThe Hallow Men,“ I said, but the way I said it sounded more like a question than a definitive answer.
