“Bad mental picture, bad mental picture, bad mental picture,” Katherine said next to me. “I won’t be able to scrub that image out of my brain.”
“You’re jealous you didn’t get to see the real thing,” Peeter joked.
“I can promise you that is not the case. I am curious. How did you look in the Speedo when you went from being an outty to being an innie as your manhood tried to burrow inside your body?”
“Talk about shrinkage,” I added.
“Shhh…” Maeve said, placing her finger against her lips and glaring in our direction.
“As I was saying,” San Nicolás shot daggers in our direction, “Ryan Devan Butcher apparently did something while becoming a polar bear and broke his leg. The creative team found out last night when Mrs. Eldridge called to let us know about the unfortunate accident. Thankfully, Eldridge made a few phone calls and helped us recast the role.” San Nicolás gazed at his watch. “They should be here any time now.”
Rebekka came into the theater as if on cue, her entourage streaming in behind her. I had never really paid attention to the six people who followed her everywhere. I wondered what each one did exactly.
“Good morning, cast,” Rebekka said as she walked down the center aisle like Mama Rose at the beginning ofGypsy. I almost expected her to scream, “Sing out, Louise!” Instead, she came on stage, leaving her minions in the darkened seats of the theater. She kissed San Nicolás on both of his cheeks in greeting before turning to the cast. “I have horrible news. Ryan Devan Butcher was injured last night in a horrific accident. Thankfully, his doctors think he’ll survive and make a full recovery.”
Drama queen much?
“Unfortunately, this means I had to recast his role last night. I couldn’t put it off because we’re already behind schedule.” She glanced at Maeve, “Don’t worry, Ms. McKenna, I already cleared it with Equity.” McKenna arched an eyebrow but looked resigned to the change. Eldridge continued, “Today, it is my honor to welcome the newest member of our little family, Asher Fraser Alexander.”
She gestured off stage, and one of her minions stood up and slowly walked up on stage. There were gasps of shock, and many heads in the room swiveled in my direction to see my reaction. I clenched my jaw.Don’t make a scene. Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. Smile.I forced my lips into some semblance of a smile.
“Are you okay?” I heard Katherine ask quietly.
“I will be,” I said through clenched, smiling teeth.
I stared at Asher as he got on stage and found my face. His eyes grew into giant saucers and looked like a moose in headlights.At least, he didn’t know about this either.I kept my face as neutral as possible. His jaw dropped, a look of terror flashed over his face.
“You can sit over there, Mr. Alexander,” Rebekka said, gesturing to a seat opposite me at the table. The seat that idiot Butcher should be sitting.
Asher never was that good of an actor. He didn’t try to hide his shock. I at least hid my emotions.
“Well,” Rebekka said once Asher was seated. “Let’s run the show. San Nicolás, the stage is yours.”
Rebekka climbed down from the stage and walked down to where her minions were seated. The room quieted down as he turned to Eugene, who was again behind the practice piano. Eugene started playing the overture, and we quickly broke into the first song of Act One. I was glad that I had the work to focus on, but every time Asher had to do something, it reminded me that he was there. I tried not to cringe every time he opened his mouth, but it was hard.
We finished the last song of the show, “Christmas Wedding,” and San Nicolás, along with the other creatives in the room, broke into applause.
No one paid any attention to Rebekka until her clunky heel was heard climbing the stairs to the stage. “Definitely an improvement, but I have a list of notes. Shall we go over them?” She asked it as a question, but anyone could tell her ‘notes’ were going to be commandments. I’d heard of tyrannical producers, but she wanted to make sure the show was done her way. I almost wondered why she bothered having a director since she clearly wanted to direct.
“Take twenty minutes,” San Nicolás said. He let out an audible sigh and turned to Rebekka. The creative team joined them, and the group huddled and got to work on whatever magical revision Rebekka had come up with this time.
I didn’t chance a glance across the table. I scurried out of the theater and ran to the women’s room. I stared at myself in the mirror. “You can do this, Erika. You’re a big girl now. Asher is your past. Just be professional. Act professional.” I tried not to hyperventilate. I looked down at the sink, turned on the faucet, splashed some cold water on my face, then grabbed a paper towel to blot my face dry. I was wrapping up when the door to the restroom opened.
“Erika,” I heard Asher say behind me. “We need to talk.”
I spun around, took three steps forward, and slapped him. It was almost comical. His reaction was virtually overkill, like it was a stage slap that he had to sell to the mezzanine. His hand shot up to the cheek. He’d been caught off guard.
“Overacting much?” I gritted out.
“I guess I kind of deserve that.”
“What do you want?” I asked in my best ice queen voice.
He put up his arms in mock surrender. “I just want to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“Can we go somewhere else?”
