Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

T he rest of the week was chaotic and crazy. I swear that no one on the creative team knew what anyone else was doing. We’d rehearse songs in the morning that were only tossed out when we got script changes in the afternoon. They hadn’t bothered to change the names of the characters yet. I was still Michael O’Brien. Do I look like a Michael O’Brien?

I slid down the backstage wall and rested my arms on my knees. The show would hit Broadway right after Thanksgiving like the largest turkey this country has ever seen. Thankfully, the producer added an extra week to rehearsals, but that meant our scheduled opening put us right in the tourist season instead of at the beginning of the Christmas season.

“Hey, girl,” Katherine said as she slumped down the wall next to me. “How are you holding up?”

“Currently, I’m holding up this wall. As precarious as this house of cards is built, it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole thing caved in on top of us…literally.”

“I know. They should call the show Hashtag Poo Emoji.”

“It’d be better than the other names I’ve heard tossed around this week. I’ve heard of a show changing names mid-stream, but this is ridiculous. Everything is changing mid-stream. It’s almost like they had no intention of opening the show.”

“You don’t think they’re our very own The Producers , do you?”

“Nah, at least the show in The Producers became a hit. This,“ I gestured wildly toward the stage like a plastic blowup doll at a used car lot, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Take a deep breath, Erika. It will all work out.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’m grateful this week is almost over. I really need some me-time.”

“Any plans for your day off?”

“Sleep,” I said. “Maybe do laundry. I hate doing laundry. I’d much rather buy new clothes.”

“I’ve totally done that before. It’s too easy to have Amazon deliver new panties than trudging down to the local laundromat some days.”

I let out a sigh of agreement. “But I have a date tonight.”

“With a real live boy?”

“Yes,” I said with a smile.

“Please tell me he’s not in the business.”

“Not like we are,” I admitted. “He’s a publicist.”

“Is this a date or a reinvention of your social media presence?”

“My social media presence isn’t that bad.”

“Sure thing, Ms. Queen of the I Hate Men Club.”

“I don’t hate men.” I crossed my arms and put on my best pouty face. “I don’t like specific men. And…they tend to be the men I like to date.”

“Scumbags, you mean. I think the term is scumbags. You date scumbags.”

“Wow, you’re blunter than my therapist is.”

“I thought about becoming a therapist as a day job years ago. If nothing else, it would make my Japanese parents get off my case about ‘finding a real job’ or ‘when are you going to get married,’” she mimicked in a stereotypically Asian-sounding accent.

“George Melton, Allan Chadwick, and Michael O’Brien, you’re needed by wardrobe for a fitting,” a voice in the back of the theater yelled.

“I guess that’s our cue,” I said as I pushed myself into a standing position, using the wall to help me up. We broke into “The Ladies Who Lunch,” garnering only a couple of odd looks from people around us.

I let out a quick giggle as we left backstage through a side door and into the lobby where the wardrobe had set up temporarily.

“Where have you two been hiding?” Peeter asked as we approached. One of the wardrobe people had already pulled him aside and was measuring him—and I mean all of him—from the head to the wrist to the ankle and everything in between. The seamster whipped the tape measure around like a needle ninja with sewing thread.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said off to my right. I looked over to see Aarya walking toward us. “I was standing in the back waiting for you to come my way.”

“Sorry about that,” Katherine said. “We knew a secret passageway that got us here faster.” The poor intern gave us a blank stare. “Backstage, we were backstage. It was faster to use the side door than walk through the middle of rehearsal.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Aarya said flatly.

“Who are these two?” a man’s voice asked. “I thought I called for the three ghosts.”

“These are the three ghosts,” Aarya said, gesturing to Katherine, Peeter, and me.

“They are listed as men.” The older gentleman pulled out a notebook, flipped to a page, pointed at it, and said, “See, right there. The ghosts are supposed to be George, Allan, and Michael.”

“Yes, sir,” Aarya said, clearly doing their best to pacify the guy. “There was a change during casting.”

“And no one thought to call me?” He turned in a huff and started away as he yelled, “Lucinda!”

“What was that about?” Katherine asked, watching the man leave.

“That’s Lucinda Gayle’s assistant.”

“The costume designer?” I asked. “I thought she retired.”

“She had retired,” Aarya told us. “She’s come out of retirement to design the costumes for this show.”

“And what was that guy’s name?” Katherine asked, watching as the man still stomped away.

“Lucinda Gayle’s assistant. I don’t know if he has a real name,” Aarya said, with no hint of humor.

I stifled a giggle, but the woman with the tape measure almost lost it at that one. Over the next twenty minutes, all three “ghosts” were measured and sent back into rehearsal. Since the three of us had most of our scenes together, we were kept on the same rehearsal track. We went from dancing, to singing, to line work as a group. Not that our group had much to work with yet. There was the opening song, which we were all part of…maybe. Apparently, there was a debate on whether we should be part of the chorus on the first song since we were needed elsewhere as soon as the song ended. So, we practiced the harmonies on the song, but were told we’d probably never sing them again once everything ironed out.

We had one number that was firmly in place. The second musical number was a jazzy ditty titled “Christmas, Nothing but a Merchant’s Holiday.” We were told not to get too attached to the song because it could easily be gone by noon the next day.

This show was a train wreck of epic proportions, and no one knew how to right the thing or jump off. At precisely 5:00 p.m., Maeve McKenna went around the theater to ensure no one was still working.

“The union contract says eight hours a day. So, we work only eight hours a day. If they want us for more hours, they can negotiate that with the union,” McKenna said when someone tried to stop her.

Honestly, it was nice that she’d taken the Equity Deputy position, but we might as well have given her a tin star and a cowboy hat, because she sure saw herself as the sheriff around these here parts.

After rehearsal, I ran back to my apartment for a quick nap, a shower, and a costume change before my date. Of course, Bootsy had other ideas. As soon as I opened my apartment door, he bolted between my legs. Thankfully, he didn’t go very far. He sped down the hall and right into Carissra and Kirk’s place.

“Hello?” I called and knocked on their door. The door was open, which is how Bootsy got inside. “Anyone here? Your door was open?”

“Come on in,” a voice called from within the apartment. I walked in past the kitchen on the right, then into the living room.

“He’s in here, Erika,” Carissra called from a semi-shut door, which I assumed would be her bedroom.

I walked over and pushed it open. Sure enough, Bootsy had gone in there, climbed into Carissra’s lap, and made himself at home.

“Little Traitor!” I said as I reached down to pet Bootsy on the head. “He really likes you. And Bootsy isn’t known for liking many people.”

“He wanted some time with me, I guess.”

“Well, I really need to get Bootsy back home and fed. I have a date tonight, so I need time to freshen up after rehearsal.”

“Carissra, why is the front door standing wide open?” Kirk’s voice bellowed from the kitchen.

Grabbing Bootsy up, I yelled, “Sorry, it’s my fault. Bootsy jetted from my house when I got home and came over here to visit.” Seeing Kirk, I lifted a not-too-happy Bootsy as proof that I wasn’t a deranged thief.

“Definitely brings up a new interpretation for the phrase ‘cat burglar,’ doesn’t it?” Kirk asked. “Oh wow, that was a totally horrific dad joke,” he said when he realized how corny the joke was once it had left his lips.

“Sorry, no takebacks on that one. You aged twenty years with that one,” I said with a smile.

“Do you have plans this evening? I’m making…something. And I know it will be food. Beyond that, I haven’t figured out my cooking plans yet. I came back from grocery shopping, so I know the house has food.”

“And furniture!” I said, finally realizing the place had gotten furnished.

“The movers got here on Tuesday evening. I already left them a one-star review on Yelp.”

“As for dinner, I wish I could,” I said genuinely. “I’m seeing a show then having dinner tonight.”

“She has a date, Kirk,” Carissra said, rolling into the room to join us. “She needs to get home to change, and little Bootsy there was trying to slow her down.”

“That he was,” I said.

I looked at Kirk for a second, who looked sullen before he shot me a winning smile. “I hope you have a great time. What’s the show?”

“I’m seeing The Hallow Men ,“ I said, but the way I said it sounded more like a question than a definitive answer.

“That’s the new musical based on the T.S. Elliott poem,” Kirk informed me.

“Wow, you know more than I do.”

“I went through my T.S. Elliott phase when I was younger. It’s a show I hope to see at some point.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if it works or not.”

“Carissra, isn’t that one Broadway musical singer in The Hallow Men ?”

“He’s thinking of Ali Stoker,” Carissra said. “But there are a couple of disabled persons within the cast.”

“Gosh, I remember seeing Ali when she did Oklahoma at Circle in the Square. Wow, she totally deserved that Tony Award,“ I said.

“Do you know her?” Carissra asked.

“It’s not like that, I’m sure,” Kirk said. “I doubt all Broadway stars know each other.”

“Of course, Kirk is right. I don’t know all the people starring in shows on Broadway, but I know a lot of them. Heck, I’m sure you’ve already run over a few of them in this building,” I joked. “But to answer your question, I do know Ali. We’re not friends, but the Broadway community is pretty small.”

“Well, I hope the show lives up to the hype, and you have fun on your…date,” Kirk said.

“Thanks. Well, Bootsy and I had better get home. It takes a little bit of time and a lot of makeup to get ready for a night at the theater.”

“I’m sure you don’t need that much makeup to look amazing,” Kirk said. “Well, I should probably think about what we’re having for dinner.” He turned and headed back to the kitchen as he finished unpacking the groceries. I left the apartment, kicking the door closed as I headed next door to my apartment.