Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

T he rest of Monday was uneventful. We played a few theater games as the creative team struggled to update the script based on the new requirements from Eldridge. We rehearsed a few of the songs in the afternoon that the creatives hoped could be salvaged. Since we were supposed to start truly blocking the show later that week, I felt horrible for the bind Eldridge had put everyone in. But hey, I was still getting paid, even if I did spend thirty minutes pretending I was on a bobsled racing down a hill.

During rehearsals, I got a text from Brice and Johnny telling me that my favorite reporter, Michelle Bouvier from The Post , had authored a tell-all book about The Faith Healer . She’d titled the book Blinded by Faith . I ran by The Drama Book Shop to pick up a copy on the way home. Part of me wanted to wear a giant hat, huge sunglasses, and a scarf to make myself look inconspicuous as I walked into the store. Right in front of the door was the display with the new book. The book’s tagline made me want to throw up, “Blinded by Faith: What Happens Backstage Can Kill You.”

“Geeze, Louise. That’s not hyperbolic,” I said out loud.

“Can I help you?” a twenty-something store clerk said, looking up from where she’d been straightening out books.

“Sorry, I was talking to myself.”

“Oh my God, you’re Erika Lynsay Saunders!”

I beamed my best smile. “That’s me.”

“Would you mind autographing my copy of your book?”

“My book?” I questioned without thinking. From the look of shock on her face, I could tell that I was missing something. I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve never written a book.”

“Oh…I’m sorry, I figured you authorized the book.” My eyes must have grown three sizes—like the Grinch’s heart. “Umm…well, it’s a tell-all story that places you as the hero.”

“It what?” I asked. The poor saleswoman looked at me blandly. “I didn’t know this book existed until an hour ago.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Oh, wow,” the saleswoman said. “Do you need to sit down?” I’m not sure what I looked like, but she must have observed the look of unease that washed over me. “There are chairs in the back. Why don’t you take the book and look through it? I’ll bring you a bottle of water.”

I snagged a copy of the book from the shelf, then let the woman escort me to a chair in the back part of the store where all the play scripts were housed. As I opened the book in my lap, I said something appreciative to the salesclerk. I looked at the book for a second like it was a live snake going to strike, but I finally calmed my nerves and flipped open the book to the first chapter.

“ I was lucky enough to be in the audience to watch Erika Lynsay Saunders as Mary Beeler in the original production of The Faith Healer , the musicalized version of William Vaughn Moody’s turn of the twentieth century play. ”

I pulled out my phone and texted Brice.

Did you know about this?

I then texted Johnny.

No one warned me this was coming out.

I continued reading the book. “ Saunders’ voice that night reminded me of a blend of the vocal quality of Kelli O’Hara, the power of Bernadette Peters, and the charisma of Sutton Foster. ”

Wow, can I put that on a business card? I don’t think my mother could have written this any better. I continued to read the first chapter, which had a lot of details about the opening night. Someone or multiple someones from the cast and crew had given Bouvier a ton of backstage gossip. I almost teared up as she described them wheeling my body out of the theater, having passed out after falling through the stage. She made it all sound so…dramatic.

A buzzing sensation next to my leg caused me to jump. I pulled out the phone. Brice.

“Did you know about this?” I asked without saying hello.

“I’d heard rumors about a book coming out about The Faith Healer , but I assumed it would be a coffee table-type book.”

“Have you read it yet?” I asked.

“I read the first chapter online. You come off smelling like a singing version of Mother Teresa. It’s almost as if we wrote a press release telling your side of the story.”

“Can you please keep your voice down?” said a woman who was browsing plays on the other side of the room.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Where are you?” Brice asked.

“The Drama Book Shop. I came in to buy a copy. The clerk wanted me to autograph the book. She thought I’d had it written.”

“I need to get my team together and figure out how we can spin it. I’m going to go out and buy a copy. Well, you know, I will send an intern out to procure a copy. I’ll have the interns break the book up, read different sections, and report back in the morning.”

I stifled a laugh. I couldn’t believe that Brice wouldn’t be bothered to read the book, but he would make sure his interns gave book reports in the morning. I listened to Brice as he chatted away, coming up with new plans about how he could use this book to further my career. I said, “uh-huh,” “wow,” and “great idea” every couple of minutes as he prattled on. Finally, I said, “I need to get home, Brice. Call me tomorrow.”

“Will do,” and he hung up the phone.

I spent the next ten minutes flipping through the book to see what was inside. Toward the end of the book, I found another passage with my name.

“ I sat in stunned silence in Radio City Music Hall as they called out Darla Dabbraccio’s name for Best Actress in a Musical. I looked around me and saw a bunch of us from the media world with our jaws dropped open. How could the Tony Award voters give that woman an award? She hadn’t earned it, not really. Everything from the tone of her voice to how she raised her arms in big numbers were imitations of Saunders’ version of the role. If anything, Dabbraccio should have gotten an award for best mimicry or the most likable puppet on Broadway. The woman who deserved that award hadn’t been seen on Broadway since her accident. ”

I couldn’t have written this better if I had written it myself. I stood. There was a lighter feeling in me as I walked out of the back room and into the front part of the store. I found the young salesclerk and said, “I’d like to buy this book. Oh, and I’d be happy to autograph your copy,” I added with a wink. “In fact, if you want me to, I’ll autograph any copies you have.”

“Really?” the clerk said. “Let me get my manager.”

They set me up in the back room with a couple of boxes of books, and I signed them all. I also promised that my autograph in the book would be their exclusive. As a reward, they gave me the copy of the book I’d been reading, plus two more. I beamed as I stepped out in the cold evening air. I was floating on air. Nothing could get me down. And I ran smack dab into a man drinking a slushie. Who drinks a slushie when it’s cold outside? I looked down as the blue, syrupy, icy concoction ran down my cream-colored cashmere sweater.

“Watch where you’re going, lady,” the man yelled at me.

He didn’t apologize. He didn’t stop to make sure I was okay. As he walked away, he complained about dumb blondes. He didn’t bother to pick up his empty cup, which laid right at my feet. I tried to wipe slushie off my sweater and onto the street. When the bulk of the mess was either soaked into my sweater or laid on the ground, I turned to walk away.

“Aren’t you going to throw the cup away?” a voice asked. I swiveled my head around, about to bite someone’s head off, and found a homeless teenage girl sitting in a doorway of a closed shop. “I mean, don’t litter. It’s bad for the environment.”

I wanted to clap back, but I stooped, grabbed the empty cup, and walked away. Thankfully, there was a trashcan in the middle of the block, so I deposited the cup there. Somehow, my plastic-wrapped bag stuck in my purse hadn’t been affected by the blue. I shook my head and walked home. I passed a window and thought I looked like I’d been in a brawl with a Smurf—and the Smurf won.

The rest of my trek home wasn’t as exciting. I got a couple of odd stares from people standing in the lobby. Admittedly, one of them held a copy of Blinded by Faith , so it’s possible the stare wasn’t because I was covered in blue.

As soon as I was in my apartment, I stripped off my clothes and placed the sticky mess in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t make all my dirty clothes tacky. I quickly showered, then threw on some pajama pants and a sweatshirt before curling up on the couch with Bootsy and my new book. The book was a tell-all, and I was the only one who came out ahead. Bouvier went after Asher and Zachary Magnus. The two had been having secret rendezvous behind the scenes since the first day of rehearsals.

I sat in shock to learn how long the affair had been going on. I also learned about the fallout from my accident. No one ever told me about the backstage drama. At one point, the director quit over his objections to Darla Dabbraccio being cast in my role. Unbeknownst to me, Dabbraccio had been having an affair with one of the producers, which is how she got the understudy job in the first place.

“ After Saunders’ accident, the producers turned to the only person who knew the role, Darla Dabbraccio. Unfortunately, Dabbraccio didn’t know the first thing about acting or the role. Instead of watching Saunders during rehearsals or previews, she’d been using her dressing room for other things. ”

“Eww…” I said out loud. “I could have gone my whole life without knowing that.”

The book then went into a whole chapter about how much Dabbraccio had relied on the stage manager for all her lines because Dabbraccio hadn’t known any of them. Somehow, they had muddled through that first show as Dabbraccio had recited the lines exactly like the stage manager gave them. The stage manager and the producer had then forced Dabbraccio to sit down with a bootleg copy of the show filmed during previews and watch my performance repeatedly. Eventually, the woman acted and sounded like me. Well, that sure explains a lot.

I finally finished the book around 1:00 a.m. As I drifted to sleep, I smiled, thinking about all the people I wanted to send copies to.

I skipped the gym the following day but got myself ready in record time before heading out to work. I opened the door and backed out of my apartment, keeping one eye on Bootsy to make sure he didn’t dart out.

“ Ooff ,“ I said as I backed into someone. “Sorry about—“

“No biggie,” Carissra said, looking up at me. “You just hit the side of the wheelchair. I’m glad I didn’t run over your foot.”

“I need to stop running into you like this,” I joked. I glanced down at my watch. “Shouldn’t you already be at school?”

“Normally, I would have left about thirty minutes earlier. But with the ice out there today, I’ve been waiting for the van.”

“Van?”

“I have a number I can call that sends a van to pick me up when I need it. I hate using it. The guy who usually shows up gives me the creeps. He’s not handsy or anything, but he smells weird and looks at me strangely.”

“Sadly, there are a ton of creeps in this world.”

Carissra started wheeling toward the elevator and I joined her. “So, how is school going?” I asked, trying to make small talk.

“It’s going. I’m pretty much ahead of most people in my class, so it’s easy for me.”

“That’s always good.”

“How’s the show going?” I must have rolled my eyes a bit too exaggeratedly because Carissra cocked her head and asked, “That bad?”

I let out a brief huff, not sure how to respond to that question. The elevator’s ding caught our attention and the doors slid open. The elevator was empty, so I let Carissra get herself situated before joining her.

When the doors closed, I said, “It’s not that the show is bad. Right now, the show is rudderless.” I spent the short ride down to the lobby giving Carissra the short version of what had transpired the day before.

“So, really? You’re not allowed to cuss at all?”

“I know. We had fun coming up with alternatives, though,” and I rattled off some of our ideas.

“Wow. All I can think of now are sexual innuendos related to candy canes.”

“Carissra!” I said, my eyes turning the size of saucers.

“What?” she said, looking up at me. “I’m a bisexual teenager, not a nun.”

I shook my head. “What am I going to do with you?”

The doors to the elevator slid open, Carissra wheeled out, and I followed. “Well, I’m off to school. Don’t go sitting on Santa’s lap today!”

My jaw dropped, and she rolled out the door, snickering. I followed. Outside, I pulled up my coat against the sleet that slicked the sidewalk. I watched from a distance as a guy in his forties helped Carissra into the van. I wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything inappropriate. Thankfully, he didn’t. He gave off weird guy vibes, but he was completely professional. As the van drove away from the curb, I walked toward the theater.

Next to the Maurer Theatre, there was a fun theater-themed coffee shop called Hello, Coffee! The logo for the shop looked like the one used for the 2017 revival of Hello, Dolly! starring Bette Midler. They were already playing Christmas music, which I thought was a bit early since we still had three weeks to Thanksgiving. When it was my turn, a gorgeous barista in his early twenties stared at me with sky-blue eyes.

“Good morning,” he said. “What can we steep for you this morning?”

“Uh…” I stammered, trying to get my tongue to work properly. I stared at the menu as if I was still trying to think of something. I finally spat out, “What’s good for a throat?

“We have a cooling throat tea a lot of singers really enjoy. It’s a blend of sweet licorice, anise, and fresh raspberry leaves.”

“Sounds delightful,” I said.

“Size?”

“Large,” I mumbled as I noticed how large the man’s hands were. “I like large…drinks,” I said, catching myself. He turned around to get my tea, and he had a perfectly sculpted butt under his jeans. “Whoa,” I said aloud, but thankfully no one heard me. I’d like to jingle his bells .