13
Two Dozen Roses
The theatre should have been ablaze with nervous energy. Jitters should have been rife, and butterflies should have been fluttering in many a stomach, but a spanner had certainly been put in the works.
‘Do you want me to hurt him? Because I willhappily hurt him,’ Doug whispered to Olive, leaning across the back of her seat in the stalls.
‘And do you want me to have a quiet and calm word with him after I’ve stopped Doug from hurting him?’ asked Howard, flipping down one of the seats and sitting next to Doug in the row behind.
‘Now, now boys. No need for any of that. We just… plough on. It’s opening night, after all! Lotsto be excited about!’ Olive said, turning her head over her shoulder only slightly just in case her face was still a little red from yet another bout of tears after Oscar had left her dressing room.
‘You’re a saint, Green. A bloody saint,’ Howard said, giving the back of her neck a squeeze, careful not to disturb her already prepped pin curls.
‘But if you ever feel like… y’know…not being a saint, dressing room fourteen is a safe place for slagging off anyone and everyone. We won’t breathe a word!’
‘I’ll bear that in mind!’ She laughed, genuinely, and reached her hand over her shoulder. Doug interlinked his own fingers with hers and gave them a squeeze.
‘By the way, don’t look now but Little Miss I-Wear-Sunglasses-Inside has just walked in,’ Doug whisperedas he kissed the back of her hand and slid along one seat, as did everyone else to make room for Tamara and Jane who were the last to join the cast for notes from their director. Olive groaned but found it very easy not to look. She knew seeing Tamara’s undoubtedly smug face would make her insides squirm more than they already were and Olive couldn’t risk actually vomiting before the dress run.
‘Here we are, gang! Let’s not mince words, tonight is the big night!’ Michael seemed already dressed for the opening show that evening. The shoulders of his black jacket were speckled in diamonds, making it look like he’d been caught in the rain and had not yet brushed off the droplets. ‘You’ve all done marvellously up until now so I say we just get up there and give it everything we’vegot, eh?’ He seemed oddly cheery for a man whose show wasn’t as tight as it should be for an opening night, but Olive was thankful. The pressure of an angry director may have been enough to make her crack and that was the last thing she needed. ‘Just a couple of things before we get on our feet…’ Michael pulled his notebook out of his satchel and flipped to a page somewhere in the middle.
‘Where are we? Ah, yes! Here we are! Oscar, where are you?’ Michael looked around the stalls and his eyes settled somewhere a few rows behind the main group. ‘There you are! I just thought that maybe, in the scene with Howard that you could…’ Michael’s voice muffled in Olive’s ears as she heard her inner voice sayDon’tturn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t… but it was too late. Olive swivelledin her chair to see where Oscar was sitting. She saw him sitting a couple of rows behind, coat still on, baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, his feet on the back of the chair in front of him so that he was mostly hidden behind his knees, his coffee cup close to his face.
‘No worries, Michael,’ Oscar replied.
‘Wow. He looks miserable,’ Howard whispered to Doug.
‘Yeah. Lookslike you broke him, Olive,’ Doug laughed, nudging Olive’s shoulder.
‘He broke himself,’ she whispered back, wiping her cheek.
‘He saidwhat?!’ gasped Sammy. She was sitting up on Olive’s dressingtable, cross-legged, after having moved all of Olive’s stuff out the way with a careful swipe of her arm.
‘He said we were casual and he was single and sotechnicallyhe hadn’t done anything wrong.’ Olive rolled her eyes as she took off her stage make-up with a baby wipe, still in her burgundy dress and wig.
‘What a dick! Urgh!’ Sammy dipped her hand into the jar of hard-boiled sweetson Olive’s desk and picked out an orange one. ‘Does he actually think he can get out of this on a technicality? Please tell me he’s not that stupid?’ she said around the sweet in her mouth.
‘No, I think he’s just desperate for this mistake not to tarnish his reputation with the rest of the cast. And I get that.’ Olive nodded a little too hard.
‘A mistake? You’re seriously going tobelieve that?’
‘It’s Tamara,’ Olive said to herself in the mirror. ‘Any time someone knowingly kisses that nut job has got to be a mistake.’
‘WOAH!’ Sammy slammed her hand down on the counter and made everything on its surface wobble – even Olive jumped. ‘Stop. The. Presses. Did you actually just say somethingmean?’
‘Oh, God that really was bitchy, wasn’t it? Ahh, sorry,this whole thing has just got me all… blah.’
‘Babe, are you kidding? Ilivefor that shit. Is it awful that I wanna see you this pissed off more often?’ Sammy laughed.
‘Yes! It is!’ Olive whipped her with the baby wipe and gave her a cold wet splat on the knee.
‘SAMMY! WE’RE GOING!’ Doug shouted as he passed Olive’s dressing room door, banging on it loudly with his balled-upfist.
‘Shit, I’m not even out of costume.’ Sammy scrambled off the desk and almost slipped over on the way to the door.
‘Oh wait, Sammy! What are you doing tonight?’ asked Olive.
‘The drinks thing, you mean?’
