Thankfully, there was no more talk of spies as we headed into Monday and the beginning of tech week. Part of me couldn’t believe we were getting closer and closer to opening the show.
“Okay, people,” Serafina said into the intercom system. “This is going to be slow going. We may only get through a dozen scenes today. I know it’s painstaking as the lighting people work around you. Stay out of their way. And keep the noise down.”
I was in my position for the top of Act One. Gerard Bartholomew conducted the pit orchestra in the overture. The curtain rose and I opened my mouth to sing—
“Hold,” Serafina’s echoed throughout the theater.
I looked out on the stage to see what was wrong. I glanced at the assistant stage manager, who was sitting off to my right, and asked, “What’s happening?”
“There’s a spot out of alignment,” he said. “It’ll be a moment.”
I stretched my neck and heard it pop when I leaned it to the right. I was trying to keep myself limber just in case we made it far enough to start any of the choreography.
“Places,” Serafina’s voice filled the theater. “Picking up at measure twenty-three.”
“Can we back it up five measures to give the cast a lead-in?” Bartholomew asked from his bench in front of the piano.
“Whatever you think is best, maestro.”
The overture started and we got an entire line and a half out of our mouths before we heard “hold” again over the speakers. And that’s how it was for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We started and stopped so often I wondered if we could ever make it through the show with all the technical issues we were having.
On Wednesday afternoon, we had a short break as some flying mechanism wasn’t working right.
“Take twenty,” Serafina said over the system. By this point, I had dreams with Serafina popping up and yelling, “Hold!”
I slipped backstage and ran to the restroom in my dressing room. Outside my dressing room, I found Rebekka Eldridge waiting for me.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. She eyed me like a Disney villain getting ready for one of their schemes. “You’re the new representative for the company with Equity.”
“I didn’t volunteer.”
“Of course not, dear. I just told you, you were.”
“We didn’t vote on it. The cast is supposed to vote.”
She let out a huff and turned away. With a wave of her hand, she said, “We don’t have time for that.” She walked away, clearly deciding the conversation was over.
I stood there, mouth agape. “Well, I guess my first job as the Equity Deputy is to report myself.” I opened the door to my dressing room. While I was on the toilet, I texted Jeremy McCartan at Equity.
McCartan:We had the paperwork in our office on Monday. You didn’t know?
Erika:The producer just stopped by my dressing room and told me.
McCartan:And there wasn’t a vote?
Erika:No!
I added the exclamation mark for emphasis.
McCartan:Thanks. Until I can work this out, please stay in the position. I promise it’s temporary.
I walked back to the stage only to find Eldridge introducing the cast to the replacement for Maeve McKenna since she would not be returning to the show. The woman who stood with Eldridge was about as opposite from McKenna as possible. Where McKenna had been serious and eagle-eyed, this woman was cheerful. She looked like Mrs. Claus in the flesh. Where McKenna had been lanky, this woman was short and stout. I wouldn’t call her heavy, but she was larger than McKenna had been.
“Well, I hope the costume designer has time to redo her wardrobe,” Peeter said from behind me.
I turned and shot him a look.
“My bad, madam Equity Deputy.” He gave me a small salute.
