Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

T he next morning, I rolled out of bed, ran on the treadmill, got ready, and was outside the theater with ten minutes to spare. I was prepared for a brand-new day of adventures and whatever else life threw my way. A guy in an orange vest and a white hardhat blocked me from getting into the building. The construction crew was placing the theater’s name above the main entrance, Maurer Theatre . The whole building was called the Eldridge Plaza, named after Rebekka’s late husband, Bernie.

“I sure hope they do this quickly,” a voice said behind me. “My job is to make sure we stick to the union regulations.”

I glanced behind me. Maeve McKenna was decked out in a black pantsuit, oversized black wide-brimmed hat, a fur coat, and a pair of sunglasses that covered half her head. She looked like a caricature of Hollywood actresses of yesteryear.

“Good morning, Maeve,” I said.

“Good morning, dear,” she responded. “Do you know how long this is going to take?”

I shrugged and said, “I just got here.”

The woman let out a slight harumph sound. She stared at the construction worker in the orange vest. “Excuse me, young man, how long with this take? We have a show to put on.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. This will take as long as it takes.” He looked up at the people working on the side of the building above the door. “Shouldn’t be more than five minutes, I’d guess.”

Maeve let out a short puff, the steam exited her mouth in the cold air.

“Maeve,” I yelled over the noise of the crane, drawing her attention away from the poor construction worker. “Do you know why they’re calling it the ‘Maurer Theatre?’ I can’t figure out why.”

“Young people and their lack of theater history,” she mumbled loud enough for a city block to hear. “Erika,” she said, drawing out my name like it almost pained her to say it, “Michael Maurer directed the 1986 musical Into the Light about the Shroud of Turin.”

“A musical about the Shroud of Turin?” I started to laugh, but she wasn’t smiling. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack,” Maeve said in her maudlin tone. “I saw it at the friends and family preview. I was understudying a witch in The Scottish Play at the time. Our play was next door.“ She leaned her head to the side and gazed upward as if looking back in time. “The musical wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t good either. How any investor put up money for that turkey is still beyond me.”

More of the cast and creative team were huddled around us now as they moved the crane away from the front of the building. Once it was clear the theater name wouldn’t crash into the ground below, the construction worker signaled that it was safe to enter. We all proceeded to the escalators and made our way up to our rehearsal space.

We all quickly found our seats. New binders sat on the table in front of us.

“Asier,” Maeve said, speaking to the director. She was the only person I’d seen call him by his first name. “When are we going to stop getting new materials? It’s getting old. Every day we mark up the script or score only to have them replaced the next day. This is no way to rehearse.”

“Se?ora McKenna, I think this will be the last major set of changes. Going forward, I only envision minor changes. We’ll be switching out pages instead of giving you a completely new script and score daily from here on out.”

Maeve didn’t look too convinced. She took off her glasses, looked at San Nicolás and raised a single manicured eyebrow. “In my day, we would never have this many changes. It would have been impossible. The score had to be hand-copied, and the scripts had to be typed out using carbon paper, which meant a bank of typists would have had to stay up all night making these kinds of changes.”

“Yes, the artistic process was definitely more constrained way back then,“ San Nicolás replied with a thin-lipped smile. I could tell he wasn’t exactly happy with Maeve’s complaints. Still, he moved away from her, leaving her looking slightly aghast. She quickly found her seat.

San Nicolás walked to his spot in the room’s front. “I have some unfortunate news. Ryan Devan Butcher had an accident last night and broke his leg. He thought it would be fun to join the,” San Nicolás stared at a piece of paper sitting on the table before him, then looked back up, “Polar Bear Club in Central Park. Is this some kind of fraternity?” San Nicolás asked, looking around the room for an answer.

“Um…sir,” Caiden Wynter Jeanes said, raising his hand as if he was in school. “The Polar Bear Club is when a group of guys, who are often drunk, decide to go jump in a frozen river or lake.”

“The real polar bears would never be drunk, and they don’t jump into the pond at Central Park,” Peeter said to the right of me. “The real Polar Bear club runs out of Coney Island, and they swim in the Atlantic Ocean.”

“Do I even want to know why you know this?” I asked.

“I did it on a dare in college,” Peeter said. “Me, my hairless body, and a neon green Speedo took the plunge.”

“Bad mental picture, bad mental picture, bad mental picture,” Katherine said next to me. “I won’t be able to scrub that image out of my brain.”

“You’re jealous you didn’t get to see the real thing,” Peeter joked.

“I can promise you that is not the case. I am curious. How did you look in the Speedo when you went from being an outty to being an innie as your manhood tried to burrow inside your body?”

“Talk about shrinkage,” I added.

“Shhh…” Maeve said, placing her finger against her lips and glaring in our direction.

“As I was saying,” San Nicolás shot daggers in our direction, “Ryan Devan Butcher apparently did something while becoming a polar bear and broke his leg. The creative team found out last night when Mrs. Eldridge called to let us know about the unfortunate accident. Thankfully, Eldridge made a few phone calls and helped us recast the role.” San Nicolás gazed at his watch. “They should be here any time now.”

Rebekka came into the theater as if on cue, her entourage streaming in behind her. I had never really paid attention to the six people who followed her everywhere. I wondered what each one did exactly.

“Good morning, cast,” Rebekka said as she walked down the center aisle like Mama Rose at the beginning of Gypsy . I almost expected her to scream, “Sing out, Louise!” Instead, she came on stage, leaving her minions in the darkened seats of the theater. She kissed San Nicolás on both of his cheeks in greeting before turning to the cast. “I have horrible news. Ryan Devan Butcher was injured last night in a horrific accident. Thankfully, his doctors think he’ll survive and make a full recovery.”

Drama queen much?

“Unfortunately, this means I had to recast his role last night. I couldn’t put it off because we’re already behind schedule.” She glanced at Maeve, “Don’t worry, Ms. McKenna, I already cleared it with Equity.” McKenna arched an eyebrow but looked resigned to the change. Eldridge continued, “Today, it is my honor to welcome the newest member of our little family, Asher Fraser Alexander.”

She gestured off stage, and one of her minions stood up and slowly walked up on stage. There were gasps of shock, and many heads in the room swiveled in my direction to see my reaction. I clenched my jaw. Don’t make a scene. Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together. Smile. I forced my lips into some semblance of a smile.

“Are you okay?” I heard Katherine ask quietly.

“I will be,” I said through clenched, smiling teeth.

I stared at Asher as he got on stage and found my face. His eyes grew into giant saucers and looked like a moose in headlights. At least, he didn’t know about this either. I kept my face as neutral as possible. His jaw dropped, a look of terror flashed over his face.

“You can sit over there, Mr. Alexander,” Rebekka said, gesturing to a seat opposite me at the table. The seat that idiot Butcher should be sitting.

Asher never was that good of an actor. He didn’t try to hide his shock. I at least hid my emotions.

“Well,” Rebekka said once Asher was seated. “Let’s run the show. San Nicolás, the stage is yours.”

Rebekka climbed down from the stage and walked down to where her minions were seated. The room quieted down as he turned to Eugene, who was again behind the practice piano. Eugene started playing the overture, and we quickly broke into the first song of Act One. I was glad that I had the work to focus on, but every time Asher had to do something, it reminded me that he was there. I tried not to cringe every time he opened his mouth, but it was hard.

We finished the last song of the show, “Christmas Wedding,” and San Nicolás, along with the other creatives in the room, broke into applause.

No one paid any attention to Rebekka until her clunky heel was heard climbing the stairs to the stage. “Definitely an improvement, but I have a list of notes. Shall we go over them?” She asked it as a question, but anyone could tell her ‘notes’ were going to be commandments. I’d heard of tyrannical producers, but she wanted to make sure the show was done her way. I almost wondered why she bothered having a director since she clearly wanted to direct.

“Take twenty minutes,” San Nicolás said. He let out an audible sigh and turned to Rebekka. The creative team joined them, and the group huddled and got to work on whatever magical revision Rebekka had come up with this time.

I didn’t chance a glance across the table. I scurried out of the theater and ran to the women’s room. I stared at myself in the mirror. “You can do this, Erika. You’re a big girl now. Asher is your past. Just be professional. Act professional.” I tried not to hyperventilate. I looked down at the sink, turned on the faucet, splashed some cold water on my face, then grabbed a paper towel to blot my face dry. I was wrapping up when the door to the restroom opened.

“Erika,” I heard Asher say behind me. “We need to talk.”

I spun around, took three steps forward, and slapped him. It was almost comical. His reaction was virtually overkill, like it was a stage slap that he had to sell to the mezzanine. His hand shot up to the cheek. He’d been caught off guard.

“Overacting much?” I gritted out.

“I guess I kind of deserve that.”

“What do you want?” I asked in my best ice queen voice.

He put up his arms in mock surrender. “I just want to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Can we go somewhere else?”

“You’re the one who followed me in here.”

“Well, you didn’t exactly leave me much choice. You ran from the theater and headed in here to hide.”

“I was not hiding.” Even as I said the words, I knew neither of us believed them. “Whatever. You have me. Talk.”

He sighed and dropped his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t putting on a show for a change. “I was a right bas—“

“Stop! Warning. You’re not allowed to cuss here. It’s one of Eldridge’s rules of festivity.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Christmas bells, I wish I was. See, right there, I’ve internalized it. But yes, you were a downright pile of deer droppings who gave himself a permanent spot on Santa’s naughty list. And as far as I’m concerned, you can go suck on the North Pole until you choke on it.”

“Well, that was…colorful, yet creative.”

“You get used to it after a while. We’ve created a whole lexicon of ways to cuss without getting on Eldridge’s bad side.”

“She’s a piece of work, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea. She shows up once or twice a week, and chaos ensues. Anytime I see her, I expect the worse.” I looked at him and said, “Back to your apology. I expect groveling.”

“I’m sorry. I never said that after your accident. And well, I never had the guts to approach you after it happened. Not even on the day when you came to move out of our apartment. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He paused before saying, “I was never bi. I was always gay. You were my beard for years. I always assumed that no one would ever figure it out if we were together. Being bi was cool and sexy. It made one look edgy. Being gay was blasé. It was like a bad stereotype.”

“Well, you could have at least told me before I had to find you making out with Zach on stage.”

“That’s what I’m saying. I am so sorry for that.”

“Sorry for what, exactly? I knew you were bi. You’d been in a relationship with guys before we dated. That didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that you cheated on me behind my back!” I heard my voice rising.

A sudden knock on the door broke my attention. Kerrie Klark, one of the other cast members, poked her head into the room. “I really hate to bother…whatever this is. But a few of us out here need to use this bathroom for something beyond fighting.” She pushed open the door, and a small line had formed behind her. I grabbed Asher by the arm and dragged him from the women’s restroom to an alcove, away from prying eyes and ears.

“I never intended to hurt you. I never intended to hurt anyone. You probably don’t know, but Zach never talked to me after that.”

“Okay,” I said in a tone that clearly said, “and I should care about this why?”

“I may have told him we had an open relationship. He thought you knew about the two of us and that you were okay with it.”

“Oh, for Frosty’s sake! Are you elf-ing kidding me? Was there anyone you weren’t lying to?

“You’re right. I was lying to everyone. Worst of all, I was lying to myself.”

At that moment, I saw Asher for what he was…a broken child who was now trying to grow up. “The part that hurt the most was that I lost not only my lover…I lost my best friend. You really hurt me.”

“I know I did. Trust me, I know I did. Years of therapy later, I’m able to admit how I handled everything wrong. I was mad it all got out. I shouldn’t have started those rumors about you hating bisexual and gay men.”

“I always knew that was you,” I said, some of my anger coming back into my voice.

“I was childish. I hoped I could drive the attention away from me back to you. It never worked. I watched as your gay following grew. I was considered a pariah in the gay community for a long time. I was that little gay boy who broke Erika Saunders.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. The gays really stuck up for you. And when you started your cabaret act, everyone talked about it. The world knew that your show was because of me. And they sided with you.”

“Well, the gays and me have always been thick as thieves.”

“That’s why I told Michelle Bouvier everything that had happened…off the record.”

“What?” That was one revelation I had most definitely not expected.

“Yep. I had heard she was writing a tell-all book about the show, so I had my agent get her number. I called her directly. At first, she had thought I was trying to pressure her to stop writing the book. I did the exact opposite. I told her everything.”

“But you made yourself the villain of the whole thing?” still in utter shock.

“It was true, though. I was the villain.”

I guess he really has grown up. “So why now? Why this show?”

“Well, you may have heard about a little scandal on a movie set…” he asked, his voice trailing off.

“That was another article by Bouvier, from what I remember.”

“Yep, Michelle and I have definitely become bosom buddies this last year,” he said with a sigh.

“You leaked the story about your affair with the casting agent?” I asked a bit incredulously.

“No, and sadly, I didn’t sleep with anyone involved in casting. It was totally made-up drama. I wanted out of the shoot because the set was toxic.”

“How so?”

“The director and his husband kept pushing for a ménage à trois, but I brushed off their advances. I called up Michelle and asked for advice on starting a rumor that would be scandalous enough to get me fired but not so serious that it would destroy my career. As you can see, it worked. Everyone on the set got that it was a lie because the casting team was all women. Still, Hallmark doesn’t want to put any movies in their lineup associated with scandal, so I was quietly asked to leave the project.”

“Wow,” was all I could muster. Part of me was saddened by all of this because it was clearly another incident of Asher getting his way through deceit, but part of me understood why he did it.

“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes and he was crying. Asher was expressing a genuine emotion, something I was surprised that he had the capability of doing. “I…forgive you.” The words were out of my mouth before I’d even registered them in my brain. It wasn’t like a magical weight was suddenly lifted off my shoulders. But forgiving him was easier than hating him. Besides, I was stuck working with him either way.

“Excuse me,” Aarya suddenly said, walking up to us. “Everyone’s in the theater waiting for you two to return.”

“Oh geez! Sorry, we totally lost track of time,” I said.

“It’s totally my fault,” Asher started. “I cornered Erika.”

“I don’t care,” Aarya said. “Your business is your business. Just get your elf-y butts back in the theater before Eldridge blows the North Pole.”

We hurried through the halls and into the theater. The rest of the cast was all on stage. Their attention was split between watching the creative team, who was still engaged in a heated conversation, and the other half were staring at Asher and me. I’m sure they wanted to see if I’d clawed Asher’s eyes out. I pasted on a smile.

Out of nowhere, San Nicolás threw a clipboard to the ground and started strewing a series of Spanish words that I’m sure translated roughly to “I hate you. I hate you. Go elf yourself, you…you candy cane sucker.”