Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

I woke up the following morning early. I know my body. It runs like a machine. And anytime I put extra stress on that machine, it likes to rebel in subtle ways. Yesterday I stressed out my body twice. I performed outside in the cold. And while we were only lip-synching to the music, I think everyone on the ground was still singing. We just weren’t full-on belting for the balcony singing.

Then there was Thanksgiving dinner. I enjoyed every bite, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. However, my body wasn’t used to that much food in one sitting, so I was more sluggish than usual as my body was still processing what I ate. To help my body readjust, I needed to take a moment and support it. If I was going to survive eight shows a week, I needed to make sure my body was in peak performance.

So, off to the gym I went on an early Black Friday morning. The gym was pretty much empty. There was another guy lifting weights, but other than the two of us, I could have heard a pin drop. I guess most people don’t need to be at work by 9:30 today. San Nicolás had given us a whole extra thirty minutes because it was Thanksgiving. Whoop-de-doo! And I guess those people who are up early are looking for shopping specials and not a quick warmup for the day.

After running, I went back to my apartment and dragged out my yoga mat. I didn’t have time for an entire routine, but I needed to limber up before heading into a full day of rehearsal. After running through a traditional asana set, I took a child’s pose for a few minutes. I enjoyed the cool mat against my forehead as I stretched my arms out in front of me while continuing to practice my ujjayi pranayama breathing.

A lump of fur pressed in next to me. I giggled. “Well, I guess someone else finally got up in this apartment.” Bootsy purred in response. When Bootsy was a kitten, he had a bad habit of jumping on my back while was I in the middle of a pose. I was constantly shooing him away from the yoga mat. Over time, he learned that when momma was on the yoga mat, Bootsy needed to stay away from momma. I may have accidentally kicked him once or twice when transitioning into a one-legged downward-facing dog or when I was raising my leg for a bow pose. He’s an intelligent cat. He figured out that I couldn’t see where he was a good deal of the time when I was doing yoga, so he’d learn that he could approach me when I was in a handful of poses.

He trilled next to me. “Okay, okay. I get it. It’s breakfast time.” I put my feet beneath my body and rolled up to a standing position one last time. Then stretched toward the sky before swooping my arms into a prayer pose. “Namaste.” I got off the mat and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed my water bottle and took a swig as I pulled out Bootsy’s food, opened it, and spooned it out for him. I placed it on the ground, and he practically pounced on it like a tiger attacking a wild animal.

I sprayed off my yoga mat and rolled it up, then tucked it away under the couch where I kept all my home exercise equipment. “Okay,” I said to the empty apartment. “Time to get to work.”

Something inside me said, “check your email,” so I picked my phone off the end table charger where I’d put it when I got back from running. I scrolled through. I could spend the entire day deleting emails about Black Friday deals. Thankfully, I was not in need of any big sales. I’d already done the bulk of my Christmas shopping throughout the year, so I needed to buy some wrapping paper, then ship everything to my family in Iowa. My parents may come to New York for my opening. “That reminds me, I need to but a bug in their butts about that. We’ll need to get reservations made, and tickets reserved fast if they’re coming.” I tend to talk to myself when I’m in my apartment alone. I needed a few more cats, and I could be a full-on cat lady in the future.

Meeting Today – Nine AM! I read the subject line of the email from Asier_Zlota_SanNicolás, so I kind of guessed who it was from. On behalf of the producer and myself, we are having a company meeting at 9:00 a.m. before our regularly scheduled rehearsal at 9:30. We hope you will all make it. – San Nicolás.

“Son of a Scrooge, there goes that extra thirty minutes,” I said. I looked over at the clock, which read 8:15.

I was in and out of the shower in record time. I breezed by Bootsy on my way out of the apartment with a quick “I love you” before dashing to the theater. With thirty seconds to spare, I walked into the theater. The escalators were working, so I traveled up the flight to the main theater entrance and found a few people standing outside the entrance.

I walked over to Peeter and asked, “Any idea what this is about?”

“Probably the bad publicity we’re getting,” Peeter said. “Seems like we have a mole in the company who’s been spreading our dirty laundry.”

“Whoa,” I said. We all know that casts and crews are like sieves. The information seems to flow out of them. But airing the dirty laundry in the press is a bit of a no-no.

Aarya poked their head out of the theater. “They’re about to get started. Please come in.” They said it politely, but we all knew it meant ‘get your butts inside,’ so we did as our favorite intern commanded.

I walked down front and sat on the aisle, taking my coat off and setting it in the seat next to me with my purse on top. I’d take them back to my dressing room when I got a moment.

“Thank you for getting here so early even after we tried to give you a later start time today,” San Nicolás said. “I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving and are now ready to buckle down and finish the work.” Standing next to San Nicolás, Rebekka Eldridge cleared her throat. “Oh yes, our producer has called this meeting, so I will turn it over to her.” He made a grand sweeping gesture toward the producer as he said, “Mrs. Eldridge.”

“First, I appreciate what the group pulled off yesterday at the parade. Our ticket sales started at 8:00 a.m., and they are pouring in. It appears we pulled off a Christmas miracle. We’ve already opened seat blocks into mid-March. At this rate, we’ll be opening seat blocks into early summer when we start our Cyber Monday sale.” There was a round of applause at that good news. “Now for the less-than-pleasant part of why I’m here. It has come to my attention that someone here has been speaking to,” she glanced down at her notes before saying, “TheBroadway411.”

I heard a series of groans from around the room. TheBroadway411 was the Broadway equivalent of Page Six, TMZ, and Perez Hilton all rolled into one nasty little website. It thrived on all things Broadway gossip. After Asher and I broke up, I’d been something of a smash for about a month as every piece of my life had been dissected on that website. It’s a truly trashy experience.

“Salacious rumors and gossip about the inner workings of this production should not be made public. You all signed nondisclosure clauses. It’s one thing when you’re talking to your family or friends, but talking to the media is strictly prohibited. This is a terminal offense.”

Uncomfortable murmurs around the room started immediately. Great, now everyone’s going to be wondering who the mole is. Terrific way to build company unity , I thought sarcastically.

“There are lines of communication within this company. You can talk to either Asier or Serafina if you have a problem with production. If you have HR questions, you can call my office. If you have union questions or concerns, you can talk to your Equity Deputy or reach out to Equity directly.”

Who is our Equity Deputy now? I wondered. We haven’t voted on a new one since McKenna’s accident .

“That’s enough of this unpleasantness,” Eldridge continued. “I was waiting until Monday, but everyone needs a pick-me-up after this conversation. Today is going to be a busy. The logo merchandise has arrived, and everyone is getting a gift bag. It will have two different T-shirts, ball caps, pins, and other souvenirs we’ll be selling in the lobby.” Just then, some of Eldridge’s minions rolled in a big cart with bags overflowing with stuff. As the cart rolled past, I read the cast names on each bag, which meant they had already put the right sizes in the bags. “Everyone will receive an embroidered polo and coat to wear for public appearances. Also, the final costumes will be here by noon today for everyone. So, we’ll have costumed rehearsals starting this afternoon. All the dressers have been called and know to be here today.” She looked around the room before asking, “Any questions?”

No one spoke, so she dismissed the group. San Nicolás told us to be in places by 9:30, so I had enough time to grab my swag bag, put all my stuff in my dressing room and make it back to the stage with a couple of minutes to spare. I found Katherine and Peeter whispering when I got there.

“What are you whispering about?” I asked as I approached.

“We’re playing detective,” Katherine said with a half-smile.

“I think it’s one of the stagehands,” Peeter said flatly. “They’re ever-present in the background without making waves. They hear and see a lot. It would be elementary for one to learn things and spread it around.” As if to prove his point, a stagehand climbed down the ladder right behind us, which caused my stomach to lurch into my throat as he dropped the last couple of feet to the ground with a thud.

“Excuse me,” the guy said as he brushed past us and walked across the stage.

“See what I mean?” Peeter said. “They’re like those creepy elf dolls that people keep in their houses that allegedly spy on children for Santa.”

“Yeah,” Katherine started, “those are just creepy as fu—“

“Places,” Serafina’s voice chimed over the intercom.

“We’ll talk more later. I wish whoever went to the press understands how this adds to the pressure,” I admitted. “I’m sure it’s someone new who doesn’t know the unwritten rules about airing one’s laundry in public. It’s amazing how quickly that can demoralize a company.”

The sound of the orchestra starting the overture in the pit snapped me back to attention. It was time for my A game.

Thankfully, there was no more talk of spies as we headed into Monday and the beginning of tech week. Part of me couldn’t believe we were getting closer and closer to opening the show.

“Okay, people,” Serafina said into the intercom system. “This is going to be slow going. We may only get through a dozen scenes today. I know it’s painstaking as the lighting people work around you. Stay out of their way. And keep the noise down.”

I was in my position for the top of Act One. Gerard Bartholomew conducted the pit orchestra in the overture. The curtain rose and I opened my mouth to sing—

“Hold,” Serafina’s echoed throughout the theater.

I looked out on the stage to see what was wrong. I glanced at the assistant stage manager, who was sitting off to my right, and asked, “What’s happening?”

“There’s a spot out of alignment,” he said. “It’ll be a moment.”

I stretched my neck and heard it pop when I leaned it to the right. I was trying to keep myself limber just in case we made it far enough to start any of the choreography.

“Places,” Serafina’s voice filled the theater. “Picking up at measure twenty-three.”

“Can we back it up five measures to give the cast a lead-in?” Bartholomew asked from his bench in front of the piano.

“Whatever you think is best, maestro.”

The overture started and we got an entire line and a half out of our mouths before we heard “hold” again over the speakers. And that’s how it was for Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. We started and stopped so often I wondered if we could ever make it through the show with all the technical issues we were having.

On Wednesday afternoon, we had a short break as some flying mechanism wasn’t working right.

“Take twenty,” Serafina said over the system. By this point, I had dreams with Serafina popping up and yelling, “Hold!”

I slipped backstage and ran to the restroom in my dressing room. Outside my dressing room, I found Rebekka Eldridge waiting for me.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said. She eyed me like a Disney villain getting ready for one of their schemes. “You’re the new representative for the company with Equity.”

“I didn’t volunteer.”

“Of course not, dear. I just told you, you were.”

“We didn’t vote on it. The cast is supposed to vote.”

She let out a huff and turned away. With a wave of her hand, she said, “We don’t have time for that.” She walked away, clearly deciding the conversation was over.

I stood there, mouth agape. “Well, I guess my first job as the Equity Deputy is to report myself.” I opened the door to my dressing room. While I was on the toilet, I texted Jeremy McCartan at Equity.

McCartan: We had the paperwork in our office on Monday. You didn’t know?

Erika: The producer just stopped by my dressing room and told me .

McCartan: And there wasn’t a vote?

Erika: No!

I added the exclamation mark for emphasis.

McCartan: Thanks. Until I can work this out, please stay in the position. I promise it’s temporary.

I walked back to the stage only to find Eldridge introducing the cast to the replacement for Maeve McKenna since she would not be returning to the show. The woman who stood with Eldridge was about as opposite from McKenna as possible. Where McKenna had been serious and eagle-eyed, this woman was cheerful. She looked like Mrs. Claus in the flesh. Where McKenna had been lanky, this woman was short and stout. I wouldn’t call her heavy, but she was larger than McKenna had been.

“Well, I hope the costume designer has time to redo her wardrobe,” Peeter said from behind me.

I turned and shot him a look.

“My bad, madam Equity Deputy.” He gave me a small salute.

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“There was a vote while you were gone.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Eldridge walked in and said, ‘Erika Saunders has volunteered to take over the Equity Deputy.’ Then she made us vote on it just so it was ‘above board.’”

“I was only gone for like fifteen minutes.”

“It didn’t take long,” Peeter assured me.

I looked back to see Eldridge walking off the stage before the voice from God on high yelled, “Places. Picking up at Act Two, Scene Three.”

We were back to starting and stopping. Thankfully, we had fewer and fewer stops, which was great. During one stop, I was close enough to the new actor who joined us, so I said hello.

“Hi, I’m Erika Saunders.” I extended my hand in greeting.

“It’s great to meet you, Erika. I’ve heard delightful things about you,” the woman said.

“Oh, really?” I asked with a bit more leeriness in my voice than intended.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, clearly realizing the sound of my trepidation. “Nothing bad. I promise. Mrs. Eldridge told me you’re our union rep. I’m glad to be here. I’m Jocelyn Michaels professionally, but my friends all call me Quinn, so please call me Quinn.”

“Places!”

“We’ll talk again soon,” I said, rushing back to my last position. I heard Quinn yell “Toodles” after me as I turned my back.

“Did she say ‘toodles?’” Peeter asked when I neared.

“Yep.”

“Wow, a person who ‘toodles’ in New York. Isn’t there a law against that?”

The piano started playing, and the show started and stopped repeatedly for the rest of the afternoon.

When I got back to the Manhattan Plaza after work, I was ready for a quiet night and a glass of wine—or two.

I pushed into the building and nodded at the security guard before heading to the elevator. With no one else in the car, I slunk against the back wall and sighed.

“Can you hold the door?” a voice called.

I pushed myself off the back wall and kicked out my foot to trigger the sensor that forced the door from closing.

“Thanks,” the person said. “Oh, hey, Erika.”

Until I heard Kirk say my name, I hadn’t noticed him. “Oh, hi. Sorry,” I said, shaking my head as if trying to get the cobwebs out. “I was kind of in my own world. How are you?”

“I’m great,” Kirk said. “Just finished up at school a little later than usual. I started this new rocket club at school.”

“You let kids play with rockets?” I looked at him, furrowing my forehead.

“They aren’t allowed to do anything dangerous. It’s more of a science and math club, but we use rockets to help them apply what they’re learning. And it’s fun for me because the kids in the club come from a range of backgrounds.”

“So, they’re not the kids you teach?”

“One of them is. The rest are other kids interested in science and math.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t have been me,” I admitted. “My dad tried to teach me how to balance my checkbook. I was like, ‘Why? I just look on my bank’s app.’”

Kirk laughed. “I was the same way until I was in college. I came to find out that I was good at math and science. I’d had a series of teachers who got me excited. But enough about me. How was your day?”

“It was a day at the office. We’re in tech week. Which is the equivalent of…I have no idea what it’s the equivalent of in the normal world.”

“Well, why don’t you join Carissra and me for dinner, and you can tell me all about it?”

I was about to say no but I had nothing in my house to eat anyway. “Sure, why not. I’ll grab the wine and come on over.” The elevator dinged and opened on our floor.

“Great, I’ll see you in a few.”

“What are you making?” I asked, then added, “So, I know whether to bring a white or red wine.”

“Family lasagna recipe. Prepped it last night, so all I have to do is shove it in the oven. It’ll take about 45 minutes to cook. We can talk while we wait.”

“Be there in a minute. Let me check in with Bootsy first.”

I unlocked and opened the door to my apartment. Bootsy was curled up in a ball on my bed. I slipped out of my clothes and put on something more comfortable. I ran my hands through my hair, then pulled it back into a ponytail with a band I had on my dresser. After walking into the kitchen, I pulled out a can of Bootsy’s favorite food. I leaned down so he could get a good whiff, and to get back into his good graces for having been gone all day. I stood up with the can in hand. He looked at me before he pawed the air as if to say, “Where’s the food going?”

“Just let me get a spoon,” I said, looking at my favorite little furball. I grabbed a spoon from the drawer and spooned it out into his dish. He came over and immediately started eating it. I grabbed a bottle of red wine from the small wine rack I had on the kitchen counter before heading over to Carissra and Kirk’s place. Bootsy was so enthralled with his meal that he didn’t bother raising his head as I left.

I knocked lightly on the door, and Kirk immediately let me in. I handed him the bottle of wine, some generic something or other I’d picked up at the corner liquor store. He opened it and poured us each a glass before we headed into the living room to sit on a couch.

From my vantage point, I could see Carissra in her bedroom on a headset. “What’s she doing?” I asked.

“Playing video games with some friends of hers from back in DC. They do this regularly. It’s a good way for her to keep in contact with them. She was always a gamer nerd.”

“I’m not a gamer nerd,” Carissra yelled. “Hi, Erika.”

“You can hear that?” I asked.

“I hear all. Muwahh!” she said, playing out the spooky villain vibe.

“In all seriousness, her microphone picks up a lot, I’ve found. But she has selective hearing when she has those things on.” Kirk turned to me and said, “Watch this.” He swiveled toward Carissra’s bedroom and said loudly, “Carissra, have you finished your homework?”

She turned her head and gave him a quizzical look before fake yelling, “What? I can’t hear you over the headphones.”

I laughed and so did Kirk.

“So, tell me about this technology week.”

“It’s just tech week. It’s usually the week before a show opens when all the technological elements of a show are implemented. For us, it’s primarily a lot of lights and special effects that must be tested, retested, and tested some more.”

“Okay, so that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Oh really? Let me tell you about my morning.” I explained the stop and start process of how things were going.

“You sung two words and they stopped you?”

“That’s nothing. On Monday, we were stopped before we even opened our mouths,” I laughed.

“Other than that, how’s the show going?”

“At times, things are going smoothly, and other times I swear I’m living in a farce. If it can go wrong, it has gone wrong. And usually, when technology goes wrong, it goes wrong spectacularly.”

“How so?”

“Take this afternoon, for instance. We have this poor new actor who joined us today.”

“Really? Seems a bit late in the game, doesn’t it?”

“She’s replacing the woman who’s head my drunk date almost took off.”

“Your drunk date?”

“I thought I told you that story?”

“Maybe…?” Kirk questioned. “But I’m pretty sure I would have remembered someone almost losing a head on stage.”

I told him all about my evening at the Irish pub and the aftermath. “But as for today. Poor Quinn must come up from below the stage on an elevator, but the thing had been calibrated for the previous actor’s height and weight. Quinn was lifted up through the stage about boob height when the thing stuck.”

“What did you do?”

“We ‘hold,’” in my best imitation of Serafina. “Some of the crew ran out and helped her out. Basically, pulled her up through the stage.”

“Why not lower her back down?”

“The motor burned out. Again, they calibrated it for a tall, thin woman. And Quinn is short and not as thin.”

“That seems like a really bad mechanical design.”

“It should have worked with a range of people and differing heights and weights. Someone above my pay grade made a decision, and now the mechanism is going to cost thousands of dollars to replace.”

I went on to entertain Kirk with all the crazy antics flying around the stage. Tech week is always a comedy of errors, but this week was incredibly crazy.

The oven beeped. Forty-five minutes had flown by. Kirk pulled out the meal, and Carissra came out of her bedroom. She helped set the table, and we all sat down and ate. I continued telling them stories about the show.

“This is better than a comedy routine,” Kirk noted.

“And it’s my actual life,” I said with a smirk. “Sometimes, you can’t make this stuff up.”

“Can I be excused?” Carissra asked, having finished her meal.

“More gaming?” Kirk asked.

“Just an hour more. Then I promise to get my reading done for school. I only have like two chapters tonight. And it’s a book I read when I was in DC, so I already know it. Just need a quick refresh.”

Kirk looked at her for a second before saying, “Tell your friends I said hello.”

“Will do,” she said, spinning around and wheeling herself back into her bedroom.

Kirk leaned back in his chair. “I’m lucky. She practically takes care of herself.”

“She’s very mature for her age.”

“She grew up fast after her parents died. I wish she didn’t have to grow up that quickly, but I’m glad she did. Makes my life easier, too.” He let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I should get this cleaned up.”

“Let me help you.”

“No, you’re a guest.”

“I eat over here more than I do at my house these days. At least let me dry something.”

“There’s a new invention called a dishwasher…it dries for me.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. He stood and started carrying stuff back into the kitchen. Against his wishes, I stood up and handed him stuff through the living room window into the kitchen.

When the dishes were all in the dishwasher, I looked at my watch. “Oh geez, it’s already 9:30. The night flew by.”

“I should get some grading done. Then I need to go to bed,” Kirk said.

I headed to the door with Kirk right behind me. He reached around me and opened it. When the door swung inward, I stepped backward and found myself squished against Kirk as we let the door by.

I stayed for a second longer than necessary but then stepped out into the hall. Kirk leaned against the door as I turned and leaned against the door frame.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” I said. “You’re so easy to talk to.”

“I had fun, too. I’m glad Carissra and I have such an amazing neighbor.”

We stood there for a second, gazing at each other. And kept staring at each other.

“What are you two doing?” Carissra asked as she rolled into the kitchen.

“Just saying goodbye,” I said, shaking my head out of the fog. “It’s been fun.” I reached out my hand for a goodbye handshake.

Kirk looked crestfallen for an instant before he reached out and shook my hand. “Good night, Erika.”

I moved entirely into the hallway, and Kirk shut the door to their apartment. I leaned forward and knocked my head against the wall. A handshake! What was that?