I don’t want to know how much Dad just lost. I don’t want to know if this will require him to take out another personal loan or borrow from more family members.
I don’t want to know anything anymore.
Chapter 23
LOGAN
We need to de-haunt the theater,” Hazel declares as she walks down the center aisle.
We got back to the city late last night, but she was up early texting me to meet her at the theater this afternoon. It’s everyone’s day off, so we have the place to ourselves.
Over the weekend, the star drop refused to lower, which means the actors would have to sing against a plain navy background that does not at all evoke romance. Also, the canoe used during the moonlit float scene isn’t rolling out to center stage. Not that they could even get into the canoe from the dock, like planned, since one of the dock legs collapsed.
With the show opening next Thursday, we’re almost out of time. At this point, we won’t have a functioning set if there are any more issues.
“So now we’re ghostbusting?” I ask.
“We can’t control much. But we can control our environment. I’ve hired a feng shui expert,” Hazel informs me. “I’ve heard stories where they’ve helped eliminate negative spirits in homes and castles. If they can do that there, they can do it here. Her name’s An-Ming, and she’s going to get a feel for the energy of the theater.” At my skeptical expression, she adds, “I know, this feels a tad superstitious,but a lot of people consider feng shui to have positive psychological impacts. We may not have been able to protect our identities, but we can still save your show.”
Ten minutes later, we’re letting An-Ming through the front doors. She’s a petite older woman with her black hair tied back in a low bun. She breezes past me, focusing on the lobby. After assessing the space, she takes a note in her phone.
We introduce ourselves to her with our real names. If An-Ming knows who we are, she doesn’t show it. The heightened attention did entice a few scammers to set up social media profiles impersonating us, and I now know the names of more accountants in the city than I’d ever know what to do with. We don’t have to hide now, though. The amused articles and quizzes about what to dress up as if you win the lottery will blow over in a week or so to make room for the drama about some celebrity couple breaking up.
An-Ming refuses to hear what’s been happening here or have us guide her around. Apparently, it’s necessary that she feels the energy of the theater without any preconceived notions.
I follow An-Ming’s gaze over to the concession stand. “What’s feng shui supposed to do?” I whisper to Hazel.
“It’s a Chinese practice of balancing the qi patterns in our natural environment,” she explains as An-Ming examines the space, typing as she walks. “There are items and arrangements that bring good luck and good flow. I thought this place could benefit from some harmony.” Hazel shrugs. “And I reached out to her last week and prepaid, so we might as well try.”
Hazel and I meet An-Ming next to aisle F.
“Mind if I take a look backstage?” she asks.
“Okay. Sure. We’ll just be around,” I say.
“She’s supposed to be one of the best consultants in the city,”Hazel reassures me. “I did extensive research before spending a dime.”
“What happened here?” An-Ming asks. She’s pointing to the corner of the dock resting on the stage. The shattered leg lies next to it.
“The Spirits of Broadway?” I offer unhelpfully.
The lights from the dining room chandeliers flicker on and off after I say this. Hazel steps closer to me as a chill shoots down my spine.
An-Ming squints toward the ceiling. “Interesting.” She makes a note. “And do you actually have the ability to make changes here?”
“I’m responsible for the theater and set here, so yeah,” I say, though I maybe shouldn’t have agreed so willingly. I have no clue what she’s going to propose.
She seems satisfied with my answer and continues her work.
Hazel walks to the edge of the stage, turning around to face the fictional world I’m desperately trying to help bring to life. “Do you like what you do?” she asks me.
That’s a loaded question.
I stand next to her. “Like generally or with this show?”
“As head carpenter,” she clarifies. “You have a crew. You do payroll. You’re a manager now. Do you build anything anymore?”
“Oh.” I consider her questions. “Sometimes, but not as much as I’d like. I traded my workbench for a desk. When I got into this, I just loved working with my hands and getting out of my head. Making something from nothing. I love creating worlds.” I wave toward the sets behind us. “I do miss the actual hands-on part of it.”
