“Sadly, there are a ton of creeps in this world.”
Carissra started wheeling toward the elevator and I joined her. “So, how is school going?” I asked, trying to make small talk.
“It’s going. I’m pretty much ahead of most people in my class, so it’s easy for me.”
“That’s always good.”
“How’s the show going?” I must have rolled my eyes a bit too exaggeratedly because Carissra cocked her head and asked, “That bad?”
I let out a brief huff, not sure how to respond to that question. The elevator’s ding caught our attention and the doors slid open. The elevator was empty, so I let Carissra get herself situated before joining her.
When the doors closed, I said, “It’s not that the show is bad. Right now, the show is rudderless.” I spent the short ride down to the lobby giving Carissra the short version of what had transpired the day before.
“So, really? You’re not allowed to cuss at all?”
“I know. We had fun coming up with alternatives, though,” and I rattled off some of our ideas.
“Wow. All I can think of now are sexual innuendos related to candy canes.”
“Carissra!” I said, my eyes turning the size of saucers.
“What?” she said, looking up at me. “I’m a bisexual teenager, not a nun.”
I shook my head. “What am I going to do with you?”
The doors to the elevator slid open, Carissra wheeled out, and I followed. “Well, I’m off to school. Don’t go sitting on Santa’s lap today!”
My jaw dropped, and she rolled out the door, snickering. I followed. Outside, I pulled up my coat against the sleet that slicked the sidewalk. I watched from a distance as a guy in his forties helped Carissra into the van. I wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything inappropriate. Thankfully, he didn’t. He gave off weird guy vibes, but he was completely professional. As the van drove away from the curb, I walked toward the theater.
Next to the Maurer Theatre, there was a fun theater-themed coffee shop called Hello, Coffee! The logo for the shop looked like the one used for the 2017 revival ofHello, Dolly!starring Bette Midler. They were already playing Christmas music, which I thought was a bit early since we still had three weeks to Thanksgiving. When it was my turn, a gorgeous barista in his early twenties stared at me with sky-blue eyes.
“Good morning,” he said. “What can we steep for you this morning?”
“Uh…” I stammered, trying to get my tongue to work properly. I stared at the menu as if I was still trying to think of something. I finally spat out, “What’s good for a throat?
“We have a cooling throat tea a lot of singers really enjoy. It’s a blend of sweet licorice, anise, and fresh raspberry leaves.”
“Sounds delightful,” I said.
“Size?”
“Large,” I mumbled as I noticed how large the man’s hands were. “I like large…drinks,” I said, catching myself. He turned around to get my tea, and he had a perfectly sculpted butt under his jeans. “Whoa,” I said aloud, but thankfully no one heard me.I’d like to jingle his bells.
Chapter 14
Teainhand,Ientered the theater, then climbed up the escalator, which was still not moving. I wondered if they’d get the blasted thing working before the first day of previews. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about those details. I had to worry about whether we’d have a show to put up.
I walked into the rehearsal theater. The tables were set up again on the stage. I smiled at Eugenius Moses, the composer, and he lifted one corner of his lips in a cordial greeting. From the looks of the bags under his young eyes, I didn’t think he’d slept.
I crossed the stage and found my seat. Sure enough, there’s a brand-new notebook with a brand-new script inside. There were a few new sheets of music, too. I glanced around the table and saw a sea of weary faces on the creative team. From the looks on everyone’s faces, the entire team was on-hand last night to work through the producer’s new vision. At precisely 9:00 a.m., Divya Philomena Kappel, the choreographer, sauntered into the theater. She made a grand entrance up the stage. The level of drama she exuded reminded me of Glenn Close in the last scene ofSunset Boulevard.
“If you will please settle down,” Kappel said, in her thick Spanish accent. “Asier is taking a meeting with the producer, so he asked me to rehearse you this morning. And by rehearse, he wants us to go through the new materials. Since I am not really needed until it is time for you to move your bodies, I will sit back and let Maestro Moses take over.” She looked over at Eugene, who clearly didn’t know this was coming.
Eugene stood up and turned to face us. “Well, as you, umm…well know. We were thrown a bit of a curveball yesterday. Umm…Mabel, Tyreek, and I stayed up all night trying to make the producer’s vision a reality.”
Kishor Khatri, who was dressed in a tan suit, looked at Eugene and asked, “Is this your show or her show?”
“Well, umm—“
