Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

T he rest of the weekend flew by in a blur. We had several minor mishaps, but everything was gelling. On Monday, we successfully ran the show three times and planned on running it once on Tuesday before our first preview that night. First previews are always nerve-racking experiences. I invited Brice, Johnny, and Amani to the first preview. Brice and Johnny would be kind, but bluntly honest. Amani was going to be my cheerleader, who I also needed.

Since it was the first preview, and on a Tuesday, we started the show a half hour earlier than we normally would. I got to the theater at 6:00 p.m., and the cast met on the stage for a quick pep talk and warm up before we headed off to get into our costumes. At 6:30, I started on my makeup. The makeup designer had made a pretty easy-to-replicate makeup for my character.

“The house is now open,” Serafina’s voice said over the speaker in my dressing room.

There was a light knock on the door. “Come in,” I said. The wig stylist came in to help me get my microphone fitted and the wig on. The microphone pack sat against the small of my back, and the wire was taped down against my back and neck. The microphone sat under the lace-front hairline at the front of my forehead. There was no way to see the hidden microphone unless you were close.

“Thanks,” I said as the wig artist left. He opened the door and passed my dresser, Gladys Lapinski, who came in and helped me get into my costume. She was all mine. I had enough costume changes that I had a personal dresser who tracked me during the show. My quick change—when I ran from stage left to stage right in the middle of the show—would have been impossible without her.

I did one last look in the mirror in time for Serafina to say, “Five minutes to places, five minutes to places.” I thanked Gladys and said I’d see her for my first costume change before heading out to stage right for my first entrance.

The backstage area was abuzz with movement. People were dashing to-and-fro, ensuring everything was where it needed to be. A chorus boy almost ran me over. He apologized but kept going. I’d had a brief conversation with him once, so I knew this was his first Broadway show after college. Quite a few of our cast members were making their Broadway debuts in this show. And while this technically wasn’t their Broadway debut yet—that happened on opening night—I understood the anxiety and excitement. I couldn’t help but think back to the first preview of The Faith Healer . I’d been so afraid I would forget my lines and blocking. But then the orchestrations started, and my body went into autopilot and navigated me through the show despite my nerves.

“Places.” I heard Serafina’s voice call as I got to the stage. I made my way to where my other elves were stationed.

“Break a leg,” Peeter said. “Well, maybe not you, Erika,” he laughed at his own joke. “Too soon?”

“It will always be too soon, goofball.” He was trying to ease his nerves, so I didn’t take the jab personally. “I would say break a leg to you, too, Peeter, but I don’t have time to hire a hitman and train another elf,” I said with a wink.

“Get a room,” Katherine joked.

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight shone at center stage. San Nicolás walked on stage and greeted the audience. “Good evening, and welcome to the first preview of The Naughty List .“ A roar of applause filled the theater. As the noise died down, San Nicolás continued, “As you know, this is a preview, and while we do not anticipate any problems, it’s possible that there could be moments when things don’t go exactly according to plan. Please bear with us. Now, sit back and enjoy the show.”

As soon as he said this last line, I watched one of the backstage monitors as Gerard Bartholomew conducted the downbeat in the pit and the orchestra started the overture. I breathed deeply to calm my nerves and got ready to sing my first note.

“Hold!” Serafina’s voice echoed in my ear.

“Are you elf-ing kidding me!” Peeter said.

I looked at the assistant stage manager sitting next to us in his cubby. “There’s a problem with the Act Curtain. It’s not opening. The automation rigging system isn’t responding. They’re sending a stagehand to do it manually.”

My jaw dropped open. Sadly, that was the beginning of the night of a thousand problems. Our little two-and-half-hour musical took almost five hours. We hadn’t had this many problems since our first day of tech. If it could go wrong, it went wrong. The proverbial cherry on the ice cream cone from hell was when we blew a fuse at the top of Act Two. The company electrician spent fifteen minutes diagnosing and fixing the problem. Thankfully, she had spares of everything sitting around in her workshop.

By the time we took our final bows, the entire company was exhausted. The audience, which had remained through the entire five hours, was supportive and still gave us a standing ovation. I doubted we deserved one that night. Maybe they gave us the ovation for simply finishing the show.

As the cast made its final bow and the curtain closed, Serafina, San Nicolás, and Eldridge walked on stage and gave us polite applause. From the thin-lipped smile on Eldridge’s face, I could tell she was not a happy camper.

“Well, first previews are often rough,” San Nicolás said, trying to reassure us. “We have a few kinks to iron out before we open.”

“Kinks?” Peeter whispered next to me. “I’ve seen fewer kinks at the Folsom Street Fair.”

I tried not to smile at his joke, so I let out a cough instead, covering my mouth.

“The artistic team needs time to process everything that happened tonight, so we’ll wait until tomorrow morning to go over notes,” San Nicolás informed the group. “Good night. And get some rest. We still have a lot of work in front of us.”

“Okay, people,” Serafina then said. “Call time for tomorrow morning is our usual 8:00 a.m. We’ll rehearse until 3:00. Your call time for tomorrow evening will be 7:00 p.m. unless your hair and makeup require the extra half hour.” She then nodded and added, “Get out of here.”

I got back to my dressing room, and Gladys helped me out of my costume while the assistant hair supervisor did the same with my wig and microphone. While all this was going on, I texted Brice, Johnny, and Amani to let them know it would be a few minutes before I was free. I told them to head over to the restaurant, and I’d meet them there.

I showered as quickly as possible before throwing on the simple pair of jeans and sweater I’d worn to the theater that evening. The receiving line for autographs was out the back entrance to the building, near the loading dock, but I didn’t feel like taking selfies with any adoring fans at 1:30 a.m. Instead, I walked through the theater and out the main entrance. I figured anyone looking for the cast would be out back, so slipping out the front would be quick and easy.

I was about to walk across the stage and up through the orchestra seats when I heard a loud argument on stage. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help myself. They were just simply too loud not to.

“This was a total sh—“

“Language,” Eldridge barked. “How many times must I say this around here?”

“I’m sorry,” Noam Weiss, the show’s general manager, said. “But this was a disaster.”

“What happens on my stage is none of your business,” San Nicolás said with no emotion in his voice. “Keep to the things you know…go write a paycheck or something.”

“Why, you little smarmy—“

“Silence!” Eldridge said with two claps. I couldn’t see her, but I could imagine her well-manicured eyebrows arching simultaneously. “Yes, tonight was rougher around the edges than expected. But let’s focus on the positives.”

“No one given a free ticket asked for a refund,” Weiss said.

“Weiss,” Eldridge said, clearly warning the man not to continue.

“The positives were that the acting and music worked,” San Nicolás said. “There are a few areas that need tweaking. And we need to redo the eleven o’clock number. It’s not working.”

“I hate admitting it,” Eugene Moses said, “but there are about three songs that aren’t working and at least two that are dragging the show. I don’t want to cut anything, but we must. Mable, what are your thoughts?”

I hadn’t heard Mable speak very often, so I was curious to listen to what she had to say.

“The book is working, mostly. I need to punch up some jokes. Some of the elf moments aren’t getting the laughs we thought they would.”

“Is it delivery or the jokes?” Eugene asked.

“Maybe a combination of both, but I think the jokes need help,” Mable responded.

“I may know a dramaturg who did a stint at Second City in Chicago. I can call him tomorrow?” Serafina chimed in.

“How much will that cost us?” Weiss asked.

“I don’t know,” Serafina admitted.

“I don’t care about the budget,” Eldridge said. “I want the show to work. Call the dramaturg.”

“Mrs. Eldridge,” Weiss cut in, “as the general manager, I want to warn you that any changes to the budget can impact other parts of the show.”

“Do I look like I’m concerned with budgets? I know that’s your job, but I can always throw in another $100K or more if it makes the show a success. This show is my late husband’s legacy. It. Must. Work.” There was silence as no one said anything else. “That will be all. And Weiss, once we know how much the dramaturg will cost, send the expense report to my office, and we’ll transfer funds into the show account.”

A voice cleared behind me. I spun to see Vladislav Nicolai, the house manager, standing behind me in his usual three-piece suit. “It’s not nice to listen in on others’ conversations,” he chided in his thick Russian accent.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t mean…Oh, son of a nutcracker!” He raised an arched eyebrow at my outburst. “It’s not like I intended to spy. I was trying to walk through the theater, and they were there.” I gestured toward the stage. “I couldn’t get past them.”

“And why didn’t you exit by the rear stage door where your adoring fans were waiting?”

“After the show tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to plaster on a smiling face and take selfies,” I admitted.

“Mm-hmm… Let me show you a different route.” I gestured for him to show me the way.

He walked me backstage, and we headed downstairs. There was a door about midway down the hall I ran through every night. He opened the door, which led to another hallway. “This is where the administrative offices are for the theater,” he said as we walked through the brightly lit hallway. Sure enough, we passed several office suites with glass doors. The last one on the left had Nicolai’s name on the door, so I made a mental note of where he lived when he wasn’t running the theater. At the end of the hall was a metal door. Nicolai pushed open the door, which led into an alleyway.

“Go to the right. It brings you out in front of the theater.”

“Thanks! This will make life easier if I need to leave the theater after a show quickly.”

He nodded. “And Ms. Saunders, in the future, I would refrain from eavesdropping. Theater is a dangerous business. We wouldn’t want you to break a leg again before opening night.” He closed the door with a loud thud that reverberated off the alleyway.

Did he just threaten me? I mean…it was like a line right out of a Russian mob film. I walked down the alleyway, glancing over my shoulder a couple of times to make sure he hadn’t followed me. Once on 47 th Street, I let out a sigh of relief. I’d been holding my breath.

I walked the two blocks to the late-night restaurant where I was meeting Amani, Brice, and Johnny.

By the time I arrived at the restaurant, the boys had already had appetizers and were drinking without me. They said their polite congratulations as I sat down. I smiled and accepted them. They were being polite. They didn’t need to tell me it was a disaster. We all knew it.

We chitchatted about everything but the show. I told them about my experience with Nicolai. They all raised their eyebrows at the broken leg comment.

“Geez,” Johnny said. “He sounds like an extra out of a Russian mob film.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I admitted. “I won’t lie. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn’t coming after me with a tire iron and go all Nancy Kerrigan on me.” Brice laughed, but Johnny looked dumbfounded. “Geeze, I forget how young you are. Basically, a figure skater hired someone to attack another figure skater.”

“Oh, you mean the movie I, Tonya ,“ Johnny said, nodding.

“You realize that movie was based on a true story?” Brice asked.

“It was?” Johnny asked. “Is that widely known?”

“Oh, it’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Amani said. Brice snickered, and Johnny let out a little pout.

“You think I’m pretty?” Johnny asked Amani, as he tried to switch the topic to his favorite subject…himself.

“And that’s what you take out of the conversation, dear,” Amani said. “Everyone thinks you’re pretty.” Amani placed his hand on Johnny’s shoulder before leaning in and kissing him on the side of the cheek.

“You two are so cute…it’s disgusting,” Brice remarked.

“Tell me about it,” I said with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “They’re like this all the time. Makes you almost want to believe in love. Thankfully, the piece of coal that exists in the center of my chest isn’t that easily persuaded.”

“That’s because you’ve had a string of bad dates,” Johnny said. “Your prince in shining armor is out there.”

“You’ve been dating again?” Brice asked.

“Though I may put an end to that soon.” I ran down the list of dates I’d had recently. Brice chuckled at how each date was more absurd than the last.

When I was done talking, Brice looked at me and said, “I know you’ve had some bad dating luck, but there is a guy I work with. He’s another lawyer.”

“Another lawyer? I don’t—“

“He’s a great guy. I wouldn’t set you up with him if I didn’t believe you would hit it off. And he’s not American.”

“Oh really? I love a good international man of mystery.”

“He’s 35, gorgeous, tall, and Icelandic. Trust me, if he had one remotely gay bone in his body, I’d be throwing myself at him.”

“I don’t know…With the show and everything else—“

“Come on, Erika, what do you have to lose?” Johnny said, encouraging me.

“Oh, why the heck not!” I smiled to reassure Brice that I was on board. Inside my head, I wondered if I’d made another bad dating decision.