Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

T he rest of the week was a blur of activity. From new script pages to song rewrites to finally getting into the blocking and choreography, the cast and crew were exhausted after their six days of rehearsal. Thankfully, the show was starting to look like an actual show for the first time. This was great since we were supposed to finally get access to the big theater on Monday. After a couple of delays, Rebekka squeezed every worker she could to ensure everything on the stage would be ready to work with the following Monday.

On Thursday, the set designer explained how everything would work. The biggest pieces of the set were supposed to be delivered on Saturday and Sunday, so we’d be able to rehearse on the actual stage early the following week. The set designer was this little old woman who was maybe 4‘5“, but she had enormous energy, and had at least six Tony Awards for her work on various plays and musicals. She worked with a design team in Jersey who built the set in a giant warehouse. It would be dismantled there and then brought to Broadway on semi-trucks over the weekend. Her on-site construction team would then systematically put the set back together inside the theater.

“If you see a man in a hard hat, stay out of his way,” the designer told us. “Do not interrupt. Do not go take a peek to see what it looks like when they are working. You will get access to the stage when it is safe, not one second sooner.”

The Maurer Theatre’s stage was on the second floor of the building, so large elevators at the back of the building would lift everything from the ground level to the stage level where it would be reassembled. And despite the set designer’s warning, I poked my head in on Saturday to see how things were going. There were miles and miles of cables and giant crates. Set pieces littered the auditorium in hundreds of pieces waiting to be reassembled. How they would get all of it rebuilt in two days was beyond me.

On Friday, we showed up and were whisked away to a recording studio, where we heard the orchestrations for the opening number. We recorded a modified version of the opening that we would perform the next Thursday at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. As if we weren’t stressing enough about getting the show opened in time, now we had to split rehearsal between the stage show and the televised number. My head was swimming in choreography because it was the same song, same choreography, but very different staging. I’ve done promotional songs for shows before, which were often different from what was performed on stage. But trying to learn both versions simultaneously was driving all of us crazy. Thankfully, the recording engineers spent all night on Friday working on the cut of the song for Macy’s, so we had the exact version we’d be lip-syncing to on Thursday.

The televised Broadway numbers shown during the parade are always lip-synced, as are all the performance numbers. Nothing is left to chance with the televised musical numbers at the parade.

Carissra, Kirk, Johnny, and I had pizza on Saturday night, and I explained the whole process to them.

“So, why do you lip-sync? I thought the whole point of Broadway was that it was live?” Kirk asked.

“There are a ton of reasons why. First, the weather is unpredictable. We could be out there in the rain, snow, or sun. Unless we shot from within a theater, there’s no way to prepare for all the contingencies related to weather.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Kirk said, stuffing a piece of cheesy bread into his mouth.

“Besides,” Johnny added, “if the weather is freezing, the cold can be terrible on someone’s vocal cords.”

“How so?” Carissra asked.

“It’s basic anatomy, my dear.” Johnny picked up two breadsticks. “These are like your vocal cords. They wobble when they’re all nice like this, and you can get the most out of your cheesy goodness. Your vocal cords prefer a hot, moist climate…like a rainforest. They function better when they are warm and lubricated,” he added extra emphasis to the words moist and lubricated , which got a giggle out of Carissra and a side-eye glance from Kirk.

“Okay, but I don’t see what this has to do with singing,” Carissra said.

“Getting there, little one,” Johnny said with a roll of his eyes. “Now, imagine these cheesy breads were frozen. They won’t wobble anymore. When the weather is dry and cold, your larynx is tighter, and it’s harder to sing.”

“It’s not just harder,” I admitted. “It can lead to damage if you’re not careful. If we were standing still, like we were in a choir, we could be trained to take shorter, more shallow breaths while singing outside. But many of the songs performed at the parade need people to have great breath control and power while exerting themselves physically. Sure, you could belt out a song once, but you could strain your instrument and find yourself unable to sing the rest of the week.”

“And, even worse,” Johnny adds, “the television producers want a good show. The musical producers don’t want their stars out of work the next week because they’ve lost their voices.”

“That’s not to say that no one ever sings live on the broadcast, but it’s a logistical nightmare if they do,” I admitted. “So, there you go, several reasons singing live at Herald Square on 35 th in the cold is just never a bright idea.”

We wrapped up our dinner shortly after that discussion, and I collapsed in bed with Bootsy snuggled at my side shortly thereafter. Sunday, I slept well past noon before getting up, doing laundry, and learning some new line changes I needed to have ready the next morning.

By the time Monday rolled around, I was feeling somewhat recovered. Still, my body was exhausted after rehearsing. When I got to the theater that morning, it was a hubbub of action. We started by walking through all the sets. Serafina Porcher and San Nicolás walked us through how every set piece would move. We had to learn where sightlines would be on the stage. We needed to know where our marks were to avoid running into set pieces that either flew in from above or in from one of the wings.

We then walked through the show. Basically, we talked through the songs and dialogue, so the design team and backstage crew could figure out where and how things needed to move. This wasn’t even a technical rehearsal, they were giving us additional time on the stage to get used to the set pieces. Some were fully finished. Some still needed to be touched up. But even if the pieces weren’t ready for an audience, it was nice to be on a stage.

After our walk-through, San Nicolás called for a break. When we came back, we ran through the production from the top. Someone had hauled in a rehearsal piano and placed it below the stage, where we could see Eugene while he played.

The run-through was a disaster, which everyone expected. Sets flew in at the wrong times. People forgot their marks on the stage. We had taped off a stage in our rehearsal space, so we had the rough dimensions to work with, but those radically changed when suddenly there was more to worry about than empty space. In one scene, there was a table in a location no one expected, so we all had to figure out how to maneuver around the blasted thing. Sure, it looked good on the set, but it was a bit of a headache for those who had to work around the dumb thing.

One great part of the day was working with the stagehands backstage. After only seeing the actors and creative team, it was like a whole new world opened with many new faces. Personally, I had my eyes set on this rugged-looking redhead. He had short-cut red hair and a full red beard. I could almost imagine him as young Kris Kringle flying around in a sleigh. Instead of lifting a heavy bag of toys with his huge biceps, he worked on a lot of the rigging. Even though computers were essential to the modern theater, nothing beat a large backstage team to keep a show moving. It’s live theater. Stuff happens. A computer is great, but stagehands still pull ropes and move set pieces.

I had a scene where I had to exit stage left, run backstage, head downstairs to an underground passage that ran the length of the stage, run back up the stairs on stage right and enter center stage right. I had approximately sixty seconds to get from one side to the other with a costume change in between. Lachtna MacGrory was assigned to help figure out the backstage logistics.

“And go,” he said in an Irish brogue accent that made me weak in the knees.

I walked offstage, started a mad dash around the back, then scampered down the stairs, ran across the entire width of the stage underneath, and climbed back up the stairs to stage right.

I was almost out of breath when I got there. “One minute and ten seconds. We’ll have to make it faster, Erika,” Lachtna said. “Let’s run it again. This time I’m going to be right behind ya.”

We reset, and I took off. When I was up on stage right, he noticed a few things that could cut the time. So, he made the changes, and we reran it. The mad dashing reminded me of running sprints in high school. I was also thankful for all that time I spent on the treadmill.

“Fifty seconds,” Lachtna said. “That should give you ten seconds for the wardrobe change.”

“Does the costume designer know about this?” I asked.

“Probably not. I’ll make sure the stage manager knows. They’ll either re-choreograph or figure out how to make it work.”

“Ten seconds isn’t that long,” I said.

“Maybe, but they pulled off a four second quick-change in a 2002 show in the West End. By that standard, we can do two quick-changes with a couple of seconds to spare.”

I looked at him dubiously. I was also curious why he had that tidbit of history in his head. Apparently, he noticed the odd look on my face because he explained. “I’m a tad bit older than a look. I didn’t work in the West End in the 2000s, but I’ve worked with many people who have.”

“How’d you end up in the US?” I asked.

“I originally came over as the lead carpenter on a highly technical show from London. Ended up in New York, so I stayed. To work here, I had to get a work visa and permission to join the union, so when that contract was over, I got permanent workers status and have worked on several shows. Basically, a theater journeyman at this point.”

“Lachtna,” a voice called from another part of the stage.

“Duty calls. Talk to you soon, Erika,” he walked away, and I admired that profile as much as I had the front one.

We got through the show twice before lunch and reran Act One after lunch to clean up a few things. By the end of the day, I’d gotten my run backstage down to 45 seconds, which should make the costume change more manageable. Of course, we still had to see what the costume designer came up with.

Those of us who were going to be performing at Macy’s were sent back to the smaller theater, where we rehearsed that version of the opening number.

“ Attencion ,“ Divya Kappel, the choreographer, said as she clapped her hands. “Let’s run the number with the recording.”

I got to my starting position and we ran the number. Everything was going well when Kappel stopped the music and made a few adjustments. “Remember to find your camera. This is a televised performance, so you must look into the camera. Do not look to the mezzanine. Again!”

We got through it before breaking for dinner. We had to be back by 8:00 p.m., because the Macy’s people were having rehearsal on Monday this year. That way, the parade people could figure out the timing and make any adjustments necessary. I ran home, ate, fed Bootsy, and returned to the theater by 8:00. We were all given sweatshirts and ballcaps with the show’s logo for this trip. Honestly, beyond seeing it on a script binder, I hadn’t seen the logo yet. It was colorful and cheerful looking. It had a classy look, while still looking appropriate for Christmas.

Only about twenty of the cast members were in this number. Of the main cast, only the elves were in the opening number, so none of the other principles were there. “Whoa,” I said, stepping off the bus as a blast of frozen air barreled into me. In my parka, gloves, and face mask, the night air was freezing. A Macy’s employee met the bus and took us to our staging area, where we were told to wait. The group huddled together for warmth. The vapor from our mouths intermixed in a fog. Even though it was crazy cold and late at night, there were still a bunch of tourists out to watch the rehearsal.

When it was our turn, a different Macy’s employee came and got our group and led us to the famous green-painted rectangle in front of Macy’s Herald Square entrance.

“Next up is the company of The Naughty List . Please listen to the assistant director. He will walk you through some basic instructions,“ some official-looking woman said before handing us off to a less official-looking guy.

“Hi, I’m Doug. I’m the assistant director in charge of the Broadway segments.” He then ran through a series of explanations about where to focus and what to do. “Remember, this is live television. Once the music ends, you have seconds to get into a group in the middle and wave at the camera. We will then cut to a commercial break, and you will be directed to a staging location and taken to where your bus is located.”

We then spent thirty minutes working with Doug as they planned out camera angles and how our two-minute and thirty-second version of the opening number was trimmed down from eight. Admittedly, the dialogue in the song’s middle wasn’t necessary for the parade. The shorter cut made the song more like a Christmas anthem, which could prove great for ticket sales. Nothing puts butts in seats like a good showing at the parade. Broadway shows get the Tony Awards in the summer and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade in November to sell themselves and their shows to America and the world.

“In five, four, three…” there was a beat of silence, and the assistant director pointed at the group. We heard the music piped over the speakers, and we started mouthing along with the words. I missed one of my steps and almost ran over Katherine, but she saw me coming and got out of the way, preventing an elf pileup. One guy in the chorus usually slid across the stage, and he almost bit the dust because asphalt does not allow one’s shoes to slide. Thankfully, he caught himself at the last second and didn’t injure himself. Then our time was up, and the director yelled, “Reset!”

We went back to our places. The director conversed with the guys who were operating the cameras. The assistant director returned to his chair, got comfortable, and started his countdown again. This time, everything went as smoothly as could be expected. When we finished, we all raced together and waved at the camera that would be there Thursday morning.

“Okay, thanks cast of,” the director peeked down at his clipboard before continuing, “ The Naughty List . We’ll see you Thursday morning.”

We then piled back on the bus, which took us back to the theater. It was now a little after midnight, so I walked home and passed out on my bed before taking off my shoes.

That night, I slept like a baby. Unfortunately, my hamstrings were killing me the following day. Maybe I needed to spend more time on a stair climber than on a treadmill . I dragged my body out of bed. I’d forgone the gym. I figured between choreography and running up and down stairs, my body could take a day off from the treadmill. Instead, I got up, threw on a yoga video I owned, and stretched myself out. If the role continued to be this strenuous, yoga would quickly become my go-to exercise to ensure I didn’t get too tight. I worked hard so my body was strong but flexible to endure an eight-show week once we opened.

The company was back on stage running the show at 9:00 a.m. I started the morning in a half-daze, which showed as soon as I started doing the Thanksgiving choreography instead of the show choreography. Thankfully, Peeter grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the way as a set piece moved on stage.

“That was close,” I said when I exited stage right for a second.

“I was only watching out for you because I was afraid it would be me.”

We then lined up for our next entrance. We entered stage right with this hobble, wobble dance move Kappel said looked cheerful. Katherine said it made us all look constipated. But we smiled and sold it to the mezzanine. Everything sailed along after that. The three elves got through our first book scene, followed by Peeter’s big number, “Christmas, Nothing but a Merchants Holiday.” Peeter is the cynical elf who thinks all of NYC should be placed permanently on Santa’s naughty list. The song is funny, but it packs a punch with a political statement against consumerism, capitalism, and the demise of the Christmas spirit. That led to my character coming up with a grand idea to test how cynical people in NYC are today. Tinsel Hollicane—I still hated the name—comes up with the idea to leave three brand-new wallets in Times Square, each with $1000 in cash. I’m like, we’ll include a business card. Let’s see if people bring them back. But hey, we’re elves, so we can watch what happens through the power of Christmas magic—no logic necessary. Of course, I have to explain all this in a horribly titled song, “Confusion to our Critics and Merry Christmas.”

My wallet is picked up by Billy James, a Texas bloke and wannabe country singer, played by Caiden Wynter Jeanes. Jeanes had that wide-eyed innocent youthful look everyone associates with a fish out of water. And a kid from a ranch out in West Texas spending Christmas in the city was about as fish out of water as someone could get.

Katherine’s wallet is picked up by Coleen Lawrence, a New York City schoolteacher who works with special needs children. The character worked with orphans in the movie, but special needs kids seemed a decent alternative for modern sensibilities. Tabatha Thomson played the role, and honestly, I didn’t know anything about her. She was young, doe-eyed, and reminded me of myself when I first came to the city. Unlike me, she was lucky enough to land a role in a new musical right after she graduated college, so the 21-year-old matched the innocence of her leading man.

Lastly, Peeter’s wallet is found by Kerrie Klark’s character, Arlene Terry-Ball, who is supposed to be a jaded Tony Award-winning actor a bit past her prime. Klark, in reality, was in her early forties, but she pulled off looking at least five years older, giving herself the extra edginess of someone who has been there and seen it all. Anytime she came on stage, she demanded attention. Something in the intersectionality of her half-Puerto Rican, half-Black and 100 percent lesbian self, made her ridiculously gorgeous, charismatic and unattainable. She picked up the wallet, grabbed the cash, and tossed the billfold into the trashcan. If sold right, the audience would think what she did was wrong. But they’d also think they probably would have done the same thing. She pulled off this scene belting the comical number, “Heart of Gold with Other People’s Money.” Even as I watched her from the wings, I marveled at her comic timing and ability to milk the song of every laugh.

After this sequence, the three elves are in a New York high-rise, waiting to see if the wallets return. Admittedly, there was a bit of a logic gap here. Why exactly do elves own a high-rise in Manhattan? How could they afford it? And why did they all live together? These were pesky little questions that were never answered by the story. I was curious to see if a paying audience would go along with this and suspend belief. Heck, we were singing and dancing elves. What was a little more disbelief on top of that?

The penthouse set was gorgeous, even if it looked like no apartment I’d ever seen. Maybe Daddy Warbucks could afford this place, but the grand dame of this house was a retired elf ( who guessed they retired? ) named Madam Tanya Winterville, which was played by Maeve McKenna. Honestly, the way she descended the staircase reminded me of a cross between Glenn Close in Sunset Boulevard and Angela Lansbury in Mame . McKenna had a regalness to her that made me think she should be starring in a revival of The Pirate Queen .

Standing off stage left, Peeter joked, “She looks like Jack Frost’s third wife. He got the North Pole, and she took Manhattan.”

The orchestra played as she descended. Once she hit the bottom staircase, Josef the Butler, played by our only international cast member, Kishor Khatri, informed her that we, the elves, had called and were on our way up. Khatri quickly matched McKenna’s poise and sense of regality. Heck, maybe he was Jack Frost’s fourth spouse. Who knows? I learned to take things as they were written and avoid a bunch of unnecessary backstories. Some people want backstory for everything on stage, not me. Sometimes that extra information isn’t necessary. Sometimes it’s necessary to understand how a character got to a specific place in life. But most of the time, it was extraneous and didn’t always help move the story along.

“Very well, Josef. Prepare the dining room. I have a feeling we’ll be having company,” McKenna’s character says, which was our cue to enter from stage left.

There was some witty banter on stage, which we all delivered to get laughs. Then there was a doorbell. We didn’t have the sound cues yet, so Serafina Porcher, the stage manager, yelled “Ding Dong” from her seat next to San Nicolás in the house. I liked Serafina. By the time this show opened, she would know more about the show than any other person in the building. I always marveled at how stage managers kept everything going like clockwork. Talk about a masterclass in multitasking.

Peeter entered the stage door into the penthouse, followed by Katherine and me. I walked through the door and took an extra step before I remembered I needed to shut the door. I didn’t want to make it look like I forgot, so I kicked backward and hoped for the best. It got a laugh, so I made a mental note to keep it.

“Come now, Icelyn, Blitz, and Tinsel,” Madam Winterville started, “what mischief have you three been up to?”

Blitz explained his theory about the depravities of man, which was cut off mid-sentence.

“Ding Dong,” Serafina yelled again.

Josef appeared, opened the door, and let in Billy James. We then hear Billy James’ sorrowful tale of being in the big city and not knowing anyone or having any place to go on Christmas. The whole passage was cheesy beyond cheesy, but Caiden delivered the lines without making it seem too disingenuous.

“Ding Dong,” Serafina yelled.

Josef appeared again and let in Coleen Lawrence. Her sweet disposition was enough to make any actual New Yorker gag, but I could see how she would sell to an out-of-town audience. She also has no plans for Christmas. She was going to read a book and head to bed early. Clearly, this character learned nothing about being a single gal in the city. I wanted to sit the character in front of Sex in the City and give her some lessons.

After both sad stories, McKenna gets to have her big moment on the stage. The song “Stay and Have a Good Cheer” was written primarily for McKenna’s vocal range. She sort of half-sang, half-spoke the song. It reminded me of when I saw Elaine Stritch in her last role on Broadway as a teenager when she did A Little Night Music with Bernadette Peters.

“Take twenty,” Serafina yelled from her spot as soon as McKenna finished the song.

I bent over at the waist and stretched out my back. After a while, standing on the wooden stage took a lot out of you, so I enjoyed a good deep stretch.

“Good morning, Ms. Saunders,” a man’s voice said.

I looked between my legs to catch Lachtna MacGrory staring down at me. I quickly stood up straight, causing the blood to rush out of my head, leaving me woozy for a second. Lachtna reached out to steady me as I asked, “How are you this morning?”

“I’m doing great. And yourself?” He dropped his supportive hand from my upper arm now that I was firmly planted on both feet.

“So far, so good. The first act was running smoothly. Any idea why they called a break?”

“Not a clue,” he admitted. “Gives me a chance to double-check a few items in the meantime. Anyway, back to work.”

He walked away, and I stared after him.

“Whatcha looking at?” Katherine asked.

I spun my head toward her, “Umm…nothing.” The red flush on my face didn’t fool her at all.

“You have the hots for everyone’s favorite leprechaun?”

“Katherine…” I stammered out. “Isn’t that like racist or something? You know, calling a guy from Ireland a leprechaun?”

“I don’t think he would mind,” Katherine looked past me. When I turned my head to see what she was looking at, Lachtna stared back at me and gave me a wink. “I’d slide down the rainbow into his pot of gold anytime.”

“Katherine!” I chastised.

“Oh, come off it. I’m jealous that all the hot guys fall for you.”

“That’s not true,” I said, but I could feel the flush in my cheeks.

I ran to the bathroom while I had a chance, then grabbed a new water bottle before walking back on stage. As I was getting back, Lachtna was walking my way. A smile lit his face. “Erika, some of my mates that work backstage are going to a pub tonight. Why don’t you and the other girl elf join us?”

“Let me check with her, but I think that can be arranged.”

“Places!” Serafina yelled. “We’re going to pick up from where we stopped. I’ll have notes about the first half of Act One before lunch.”

I hurried to my mark on the stage.

“I saw you talking to the Irish hottie,” Katherine said as she joined me back on stage. “Has he proposed and promised to take you back to Ireland with him?”

“No,” I drew out, “but he invited us to a pub with some of the rest of the stagehands tonight.”

“Did you say yes? Please tell me you said yes. I haven’t had a night out with a group of strong, burly men in so long.”

“I said I would check in with you.”

“Then it’s a total yes,” Katherine exclaimed. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear. What does one wear to a pub these days? Do we have pubs in NYC? We have a bit of everything here, so I’m sure there’s an Irish pub around somewhere.”

“Or he could mean any bar,” I clarified. “I’ll ask during our next break.”

“Cue music,” Serafina yelled. Eugene immediately played the last few bars of the song we were working on before we took our break.

The rest of Act One ran relatively smoothly. Once we finished Act One, the cast was asked to gather in a circle on the stage as Serafina went over the notes. I grabbed my binder from backstage and my requisite number two pencil. I sat on the floor, ready for anything Serafina had for me. Serafina had notes about everyone and everything. She clearly had a fantastic eye for detail. I took all kinds of notes about specific line issues and blocking things she’d noticed while we ran Act One that morning. It was nice to be working with such a consummate professional again.

“And on that note,” Serafina said as she wrapped up, “I’ll see everyone back here in forty-five minutes.”

And just like that, we were off for lunch. The rest of the day flew by in pretty much the same way. We got through Act Two. At the end of the afternoon, Serafina promised to run the entire show without stopping in the morning.

After conferring with Lachtna and Katherine, I raced home. I took a brief nap before running through the shower. Once I was certain I smelled good, I threw on a pair of deep burgundy leather pants and a tight black top that showed all my curves in the right places. Before I left the apartment, I made sure Bootsy wouldn’t kill me in my sleep by making sure he had food and water while I was gone.

I exited the elevator in a rush and almost smacked right into my new neighbor. “Oh, hey,” I said, sidestepping to avoid running him down. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm, no foul,” Kirk said. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Meeting up with a girlfriend and some stagehands at a pub. You?”

“Getting back late from a series of parent-teacher conferences. Trying to get some administrative work out of the way before Thanksgiving.”

“I can’t imagine.”

Kirk hesitated, but his face told me he wanted to say something to me. “So, Carissra and I are having a Friendsgiving on Thursday late afternoon or early evening. I wanted to see if you and maybe Johnny and Amani wanted to join us.”

“By late afternoon, I should be free. I have the parade in the morning, but I should be home by noon.”

“Oh, you’re going to the parade?”

“Yep.”

“Where do you like to see it from? Carissra wants to go, but I want to find a spot that would be good for her. Ya know?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t gone to see the parade in years. I’m working the parade. Our show is performing the opening number.”

“I forgot about that.” Kirk’s face flashed with disappointment as he said that. I guess he really needed some advice. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from meeting up with your friends.”

“I’ll see you around,” I said. I started to walk away when an idea struck me. I spun around and Kirk had one foot in the elevator. “Hold up,” I yelled. He turned around, and the elevator dinged its angry dinging to let us know it was tired of being held open, so Kirk got out of the way and let the elevator close. “I have an idea. I get two free VIP passes to bring anyone I want to the parade. I wasn’t planning on using them, but this may be a perfect chance for you and Carissra to watch the parade. I know they have seating and wheelchair access there.”

“Oh wow…” Kirk stammered. “That would be freaking amazing.”

“You’d have to be up early and ready to go. We must get on the bus at the theater by 7:30. Technically, I could get you the passes, and you could meet us there. I don’t know how easy it would be to get Carissra there. At least with our bus, we have a close drop-off and pickup point.”

“That would work for us.”

“Great. I’ll come by tomorrow after work, and we can iron out plans.”

“Thanks! I can’t begin to thank you for this.”

“What are neighbors for?” I smiled and left him standing in the lobby with his jaw slightly dropped.

I got outside and was glad to find my Uber waiting for me. Most of the time, Uber drivers would wait a few minutes, but a few got mad and took off. I made sure I tipped extra, so it kept my rider rating high.

In minutes, the driver pulled up to an Irish pub in the heart of Times Square. Honestly, if I had been wearing more clothes, I probably would have walked. But I wanted to look sexy and not like a puffy snowman the whole night.

“Score!” a loud yell of Irish men accompanied my entrance. They were all watching soccer on the television and not looking at me. I wormed my way through the group of mostly men up to the bar. I ordered a cranberry and vodka, and the bar matron gave me a look that practically screamed American !

“Hey there, sexy,” a deep Irish voice said next to my ear.

“Hey there, back,” I said, spinning around to find Lachtna decked out in a light blue soccer jersey and holding a glass of beer in his hand.

“Glad you found the place,” Lachtna said.

“It’s right in Times Square. We’re practically at TKTS. I’m amazed I haven’t been in here before.”

“Yeah. Even though it’s in the city’s heart, it caters to an exclusive Irish clientele.”

“Boy,” the bar matron yelled. “Is this lass yours?”

“Nah, Saoirse. We work together,” Lachtna responded as he threw down money on the bar for my drink without asking.

“Well, tell her next time to buy herself a drink for a grownup.” The old woman let out a cackle as she placed my drink on the bar and turned away.

“What did you order?” Lachtna asked.

“Cranberry and vodka.”

He burst out laughing, and I stood there, stupefied. I must have made some big Irish faux pas. “She’s giving ya a hard time. To her, it’s either whiskey or beer. Anything else is toilet bowl water.”

“Well, that’s a pleasant thought,” I grumbled as I drank my delicious toilet bowl water.

“Come on over. We got a table and saved ya a seat. Katherine’s already there.”

Lachtna pushed his way through the crowd of men who were pretty much all wearing the same jersey as he did. On the far wall were a couple of high-tops pushed together. Katherine sat at one and was in deep conversation with a Puerto Rican guy who worked on the show. I recognized him but didn’t know him at all. Lachtna pulled out a stool for me, and I sat down and was glad my seat was next to him.

“Don’t worry, the game’s almost over. Then things will quiet down a bit,” Lachtna yelled into my ear over the roar of another goal.

“So, who’s playing?” I asked, trying to pretend that I cared.

“It’s Dublin versus Monaghan. It’s the All-Ireland Senior Football Championship semifinals. This determines who plays against Wexford next week in the finals.”

“What are they called?”

“In Gaelic, they’re the áth Cliath . But most call them The Dubs, as them being from Dublin and all.”

“And I take it the guys in the light blue,” I said, looking at one of the television monitors showing the game, “are The Dubs.”

“That they are,” he said with more pride in his voice than I expected. I smiled.

“Oh, come on! What the f—“ the booing in the surrounding crowd drowned out a guy’s voice.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Ref should have called a penalty, but he’s apparently blind as a bat,” Lachtna said, his attention diverted back to the game and away from me.

Well, this is going well . I turned my attention back to the screen and watched. I may not have known what was going on in the game, but I knew enough to know the game was coming to a climax by the way the rowdiness in the bar grew.

“Score!” The room erupted, and from the chest-bumping around the room, I put it together that Dublin had won. Inside I let out a weak, “yippee,” but I kept it to myself and plastered on a smile.

“Need another drink, luv?” Lachtna asked.

His pint was already empty, and I had barely sipped mine. “Nah, I’m still fine,” I said, holding up the mostly full glass as proof. Over the next half hour, the pub thinned out. It was still loud and rowdy, but it wasn’t wall-to-wall men in jerseys.

“So, tell me about yourself, Erika,” Lachtna said. He was already on another pint.

I told him about growing up in Iowa, then he told me about growing up in a little town called Nass, about thirty-two minutes outside Dublin. He’d gotten a degree in theater at The Lir Academy, Ireland’s National Academy of Dramatic Art at Trinity College.

“After college, I went to London to become an actor in the West End. That didn’t turn out quite as planned. Ended up taking a part-time job as a carpenter for a set designer. My father had been an actual carpenter, so I’d grown up helping him with woodworking projects. I moved up the ranks. I broadened my area of specialization from woodworking to theater rigging and special effects. Out of nowhere, I moved to New York.” He looked at me and smiled. “Be right back. Gotta go to the jacks.”

I smiled and nodded as he walked over to the restroom. Katherine scooted over to a stool next to mine. “How are things going? You two have been talking nonstop. I haven’t had a chance to say hello.”

“Things are going well,” I admitted. “He’s a great guy. More intelligent than most people would probably predict. He has that tough guy, macho exterior, but he’s a big melty marshmallow.”

“And you want to make a s’more out of him?”

“Katherine! I’m not sure what’s that supposed to mean, but…but get your head out of the gutter.” Katherine laughed. “What about you? How are things down at your end of the table?”

“I’m enjoying myself. I could have my pick of the litter.”

“Any specific puppy you want to take home with you?” I jested.

“Nah, I’m not in the mood to house train right now.”

I roared out a laugh.

“Need another drink?” Lachtna asked, coming up behind me.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

And that’s pretty much how the rest of the evening went. Lachtna and I talked and laughed, and he drank, and he drank. I swear, I’ve never seen a man put away more alcohol in my entire life. I almost wondered if his body would be pickled by the night’s end. By midnight, I called an Uber.

Lachtna took time out of his drinking to walk me outside as I waited. The chill of the night hit me the second I stood outside.

“Brrr,” I said as my body physically shook.

Lachtna wrapped his muscled arms around me and pulled me in. Immediately, his body heat against my back warmed me, melting away any sense of cold. His hot breath on the back of my neck as he leaned his lips down and lightly kissed the back of me. My body shivered, but not because of the cold this time.

“I know a way to make ya warmer,” he whispered. “Come back to my place.”

A part of me was intrigued, but another part of me knew it was a bad idea. I spun around in his arms to face him.

“I won’t lie. Part of me would love to do that, but the adult part of me says it’s a work night, and no good could come from that.”

He stiffened as the words came out of my mouth. He pushed me away from his body. Not violently, just firmly, as he said, “Very well then. A guy can take a hint.” He spun around and went back inside, leaving me once again to the elements. I stood there, dumbfounded. What was that? I hadn’t really turned him down. Heck, if he had kissed my neck again, I might have gone with him.

I shivered as I pulled out my phone to see when the Uber would get there. Thankfully, the driver was a block away, so I didn’t feel the need to go back inside. I swear I could hear the clanking of my teeth in my head as I waited. The Uber pulled up, and I practically jumped inside to get out of the cold.

I wondered what I had done wrong the whole drive home but figured it was all the beer in his system. The Uber dropped me off, and I was in bed almost as soon as I hit the front door.

The following day, I slept through my alarm. I finally got up because Bootsy was kneading me, clearly telling me it was food time. When I rolled over, the clock read 8:00 a.m.

I flew out of bed and rushed through the shower. I made it out of the apartment in a record 35 minutes. I had enough time to stop and get a hot tea and a banana on the way to the theater. I didn’t feel the cold against my skin because I was in a hurry. I was even more in a hurry than a normal New York hurry, which is ‘get out of my way, I have someplace to be’ mode. If a tourist had gotten in my way that morning, I probably would have plowed right through them and not noticed.

I put my stuff down and made it to the stage right as San Nicolás entered the theater with his staff and the stage manager. They sat down at their table, and Serafina yelled, “Top of Act One. Places.”

I looked over from stage right and saw a new guy sitting behind the piano. Where’s Eugene?

“Oh, my!” Katherine exclaimed.

“What?”

“Do you know who that is?” Katherine squealed.

“Cut the theatrics and tell us,” Peeter said through a yawn.

“That’s Gerard Bartholomew,” Katherine said, salivatingly looking at the old man.

“Should we know who he is?” Peeter asked.

“Well, duh!” Katherine said, giving Peeter a dressing down with her facial expression. “He was, well, I guess is, only one of the most celebrated music directors in Broadway history.” She listed the litany of shows Mr. Bartholomew had run music for over the years. “He retired years ago. How did we get him?”

“I’m sure like everything else,” Peeter said, “Rebekka Eldridge bought him. Let’s face it, if the amount of money she is clearly throwing at this production could win a Tony, they’d be measuring me for my tux.”

I hated to admit it, but as soon as Bartholomew started playing the piano, he elevated the experience of the show. Eugene had been an amazing pianist, but Bartholomew was on a whole other level. Even without having seen the show, Bartholomew directed us in a way that Eugene never could.

I got to my quick-change moment, and I dashed off stage right, down the stairs, and across the underground tunnel. To make sure I could make the run, the stage manager assigned stagehands to direct traffic and ensure no one would be in my way. Lachtna was always stationed at the base of the stairs on stage left. As I passed Lachtna, he didn’t look at me, but I could still smell alcohol on him. I didn’t have time to worry about him, so I dashed up the stairs. I was getting faster. I wish I knew how long this would take once we got the costume here.

During one scene, I had a few minutes of downtime with the elves as the happy couple sang a sappy love song. I motioned with my head for Katherine to join me.

“Have you noticed the cold shoulder Lachtna’s giving me? I can’t figure out what I did wrong.”

“Oh, yeah, he was beyond pissed after you left. I don’t know what you said or did—“

“I said I wouldn’t go home with him last night because we had work today,” I spat out. “What the elf!” Katherine’s eyes grew as soon as I’d said it, but then she started laughing and had to throw a hand over her mouth to keep herself from being heard on stage. I shook my head. Part of me was frustrated, and another part was thankful I’d dodged whatever bullet Lachtna was.

A large crashing sound and a scream from the stage jolted us out of our merriment. Without thinking, we raced to the stage to see what had happened.

Maeve McKenna was splayed across the stage.

I looked around and noticed Caiden and Tabatha standing there wide-eyed and shocked. “What happened?” Katherine asked.

“We were coming off—“ Tabatha squeaked out.

“The set, it just…” Caiden tried to take over. “It came flying in when it wasn’t supposed to. It lifted her off the ground and tossed her like a rag doll.”

I didn’t need to know anything else. I knew who oversaw that set piece. I’d watched him manage the piece every day.

The EMTs showed up and wheeled off a rather fragile-looking McKenna from the stage. Almost immediately, people from the union, along with safety inspectors, were in the theater, trying to find out what had happened. I needed to tell someone, but I didn’t know who I should tell. I didn’t know if what was running through my head was real. The group of newcomers had a face I recognized. Jeremy McCartan, from Equity, walked into the theater in a suit. He talked to the San Nicolás and Serafina. I needed to get his attention.

Wait! I know someone who knows McCartan . I pulled out my phone and shook my head as I texted Asher. I wasn’t sure if he had the same number from when we were together, but I hoped he did.

Erika : Do you have McCartan’s number?

I was on the other side of the auditorium, so I could see Asher as he leaned back against the chair so he could pull his phone out of his pocket. He looked at the message. Asher’s fingers flew over the device.

Asher: Who is this?

Erika: Wow, thanks. I totally feel the love.

Asher: Erika?

Erika: Who else? Anyway, I need McCartan’s cell.

Asher: Why?

Erika: I have information he needs.

Asher: Then go tell him.

Erika: Asher, just give me the number.

Asher: Whatever.

Erika: It’s important.

Asher looked at the phone, then his fingers flew again, and the following message I got was a 914 area code cell phone number. I copied and pasted it before sending McCartan a text.

Erika: Is this McCartan?

Okay, so it’s probably not the best way to send a text, but it worked because I got a message back almost immediately.

McCartan: Yes. Who is this?

Erika: It’s Erika Saunders. I’m going to step out into the lobby. There’s a water fountain around the corner. Meet me there.

McCartan: What is this about?

Erika: I have information you need.

I slipped out of my seat and headed outside.

“Where are you going?” Aarya asked, blocking the door I planned on using. “No one’s supposed to leave.”

“I’m going to the water fountain to refill my bottle,” I said, holding up my now-empty bottle and jiggling it at her.

“Whatever,” Aarya said, and they let me leave.

I went to the water fountain and started refilling my water bottle when I heard someone walk up behind me.

“What is this about, Erika? I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

I wanted to lash out, but I didn’t. I paused and gathered my thoughts. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of anyone else. But Lachtna MacGrory may have been operating equipment this morning inebriated.” McCartan cocked his eyes and narrowed them at me. “I’m not joking. Last night, I hung out with him and some of his friends at a pub.”

“Oh really?” McCartan said with a look that insinuated all kinds of things.

“It wasn’t like that. Trust me on that one.” I let out a huff. “Anyway, I passed him during a scene change this morning; I could still smell alcohol on him.”

“If this is some kind of game you’re play—“

“It’s not a game. I may be way off base. But I’m almost positive MacGrory was responsible for the rigging. From what I can tell, it was a rigging problem that led to the accident. If that’s the case…and if I’m right about Lachtna still being drunk…” I let the end of my sentence hang out there.

McCartan stood there for a second, reading my face. “If you’re messing with me, I will make sure you can’t get another job anywhere in this industry.”

“I get it,” I said, resigning myself to whatever happened next. “But I’m not messing with you.”

As he walked away, he pulled out his cell phone. I couldn’t hear much, but I heard the words breathalyzer and police .

I plastered on a smile and slipped back into the theater.

“Where were you?” Katherine said as I sat back down.

Before I had a chance to say anything, two uniformed cops entered the theater.

“You didn’t?” Katherine asked.

“I had to,” I said.

“But if you’re wrong?” Katherine didn’t need to end the sentence because I already knew what she was thinking.

I sat in my chair and nervously played with my fingernails. The police led Lachtna MacGrory from the theater in handcuffs about ten minutes later.

“Well,” Peeter said, leaning over the seat between Katherine and me, “There’s another one for the naughty list.”