I try to back away, but I’m trapped against the workbench. All I can do is curve myself away from him so he hopefully won’tfeelnotice the front of my jeans.
“You okay?” I ask. “I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m good.”
“Good.” It’s hurting me, standing next to him.
I never want to stop.He is Jasmine’sboyfriend.
“You should get dressed for notes. I’ll put this away.”
“Yeah, I better...” He steps back, letting me out.
I don’t look back as I run out of the scene shop.
18
As chaotic as dress rehearsal was, opening night is surprisingly smooth. Actors hit their marks, I hit my cues, spots hit their targets, orchestra... hits the right notes or something.
I’m in the booth at the back of the house, next to Dr. Lochley, who’s listening in on comm in case I have trouble making anything out. Even from here, at the back of the house and with plexiglass separating us, I can tell Liam’s crushing it. The audience goes wild every time he’s on stage. Cameron too. It’s like there’s lightning bolts between the two of them.
“Light cue 305 go.” The backdrop lights up in a blue-red-green fan. “Light cue 306 go.” The fan turns into a full rainbow, chasing left to right, formaximum gayification,as Denise called it.
Cameron’s singing his heart out for his big number, “Superstar.” I try not to be annoyed at him for his talent. There are plenty of other reasons to hate him, after all; I update the list quite frequently.
CAMERON’S BREAKUP LIST (V. 38):
FUTURE PROBLEMATIC WHITE BOY
TREATS TECHIES BADLY
GLOWED UP EVEN MORE SINCE WE DATED
BASIC WHITE BOY LOOKS
ALLERGIC TO ONIONS
ALWAYS MAKES THE CAST
CONSTANT PDA WITH PHILIP
ABLEIST
GETS TO KISS LIAM
USED THE WORDMOISTIN A SENTENCE
I go through the cues one after the other, calling spot changes and lighting changes that perfectly match the emotions and the music, my feet tapping along to the beat.
“Light cue 325 go.” As the song winds down, Jesus is supposed to enter stage right, bearing the cross for his crucifixion, so he and Judas can share one last look of longing. But Liam’s not on his mark.
Cameron looks stage left, but he doesn’t miss a beat. He keeps singing, turns back to the audience instead, singing out toward the house like it’s his long-lost lover, though he does spare another glance toward the wings.
“Where’s Jesus?” I ask over comm. “Light cue 326 go.”
Paige answers over comm, voice faint and crackly. “No idea.”
“No idea,” Dr. L repeats. “Can anyone find him?”
