Despite knowing I should take some space from Ben for my own heart’s sake, I still made a date with him for Thursday night, and now I could concentrate on rehearsals this week which were crucial.
We were starting choreography today. The lines were memorized. The songs were polished. This is where it all came together and became a Broadway show. Executing choreography and blocking were as important in a performance as learning lines and songs. It’s what made the show come to life.
I jogged up the stairs, tugging open the door to the bigger rehearsal studio where we would rehearse from now on.
The room had high ceilings and two walls of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the mid-morning sun, and a wall of mirrors that lent the room a bright and airy feel. Excitement thrummed in the room around me as everyone settled in for a busy rehearsal.
Cheryl was a nightmare to everyone as usual, going as far as making Scarlette cry after she kept messing up the steps of the choreography. She had run out of the room, mumbling that she needed to take a minute. Ed had yelled at Cheryl, but it didn’t seem to faze her much. And Derek had quickly exited the room, muttering about the stress making his IBS flare up.
If Cheryl’s job depended on her personality or likability, she wouldn’t have one. But the cast knew we were stuck with her. She was talented in the extreme, which gave her the job security that she needed to say whatever she wanted. Being the daughter of a Tony Award-winning producer didn’t hurt, either.
The rest of the morning’s rehearsal went with no more interruptions, and a few hours later, Ed allowed us a break for lunch.
“Hey,” I said, nudging Scarlette’s shoulder on the way out of the rehearsal room. “Don’t take what she said to heart. She’s horrible to everyone.”
Scarlette was the baby of the cast at just twenty years old. It made me a little protective of her.
She released a shaky breath. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I just needed a few minutes to get my head on right.”
“Sure. I get it.”
“Are you ready?” Cheryl asked from behind me, fake sweetness coating her tone.
“Ready for what?” I asked.
Cheryl wrinkled her nose. “Ed thought Scarlette could use some rehearsal time with me. I told him I’d go over the solos with her in case we need her as understudy.”
Cheryl’s smile was devious, and I worried a little about Scarlette. Her lunch break would be hell.
“Here, carry this for me. I need to grab my salad from the fridge.” Cheryl shoved her tote bag into Scarlette’s arms and strolled toward the elevator, flipping her hair off her shoulder as she went.
“Wow. Enjoy having that nightmare all to yourself for the next hour.”
“Thanks,” Scarlette deadpanned. She turned her back to me, pulling her backpack and Cheryl’s huge purse over her shoulder, walking down the hall to the smaller rehearsal studio like she was walking to the gallows.
The rest of the cast congregated in the breakroom, which smelled like a mixture of pizza, popcorn, and ramen. I sat down at my usual table with Blake, Warren, and Derek. I was friendly with everyone but had gotten closer to these three since they had the most scenes with me, aside from Cheryl.
“So, how do you think Scarlette’s rehearsal with Cheryl is going?” Blake asked.
“Cheryl will probably eat poor Scarlette alive,” Derek said around a large bite of sandwich. He glanced at Warren and then quickly averted his gaze.
Ever since I’d overheard Derek and Warren’s showdown with Cheryl, I’d noticed all the little looks they gave each other. And every time they both disappeared around the same time, I wondered if they were finding an empty practice room to use for other purposes.
I hadn’t heard any talk of their affair from other cast members, so Cheryl must have kept her word about keeping it a secret as long as they gave up on trying to get her fired.
“I bet you $20 Cheryl makes Scarlette cry,” Warren said, leaning against the counter by the microwave.
Some cast members at the other table giggled.
“Do you think Cheryl just needs a good lay? Maybe that’s why she’s such a cold, frigid bitch,” someone muttered.
Blake flushed, doubling down on eating his lunch.I wondered if he and Cheryl had—
“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to get close enough to try. It probably has teeth, ready to emasculate any unwitting dick that dares to go near it,” Warren said.
A laugh burst past my lips at the image that his statement had conjured in my head. It was too easy to rag on someone who made it her mission to inflict misery on everyone in her vicinity. Maybe someone would dump a pail of water on the wicked witch of Broadway, and she would simply melt away.
One could only hope.
