Life on the Naughty List, or What the Elf!

21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

W e had a company meeting the following morning at 8:30 a.m., which was hard for us to drag ourselves out of bed for. I looked around the theater, and there were larger than usual cups of coffee. Most of them looked like they hadn’t gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep. When you’re in a show, it’s hard to come down from the adrenaline high after the curtain goes down. Many theater types become natural night owls because we’re amped up and take some time to go to bed. When I toured, I often exercised after the show to drain my body of my excess energy. It also meant I could sleep in later because I wouldn’t have to get up early to hit the gym.

I spied Mr. Weiss and his Russian henchman, Nicolai, for a moment, but the two men didn’t stay in the theater for very long. At 8:30 on the dot, Serafina and San Nicolás walked into the theater. “Good news,” San Nicolás said. “We figured out the problem from last night. It was a computer issue.” San Nicolás gestured to Serafina.

“Yesterday afternoon, between our rehearsal and the first preview, our computer system performed an automatic upgrade. I don’t completely get the Internet, but apparently, our computers were still connected to it, which shouldn’t have happened. We’re not completely sure where the break in protocol happened.” The look on Serafina’s face told me she knew exactly who was to blame for this oversight. “The upgrade was incompatible with two different systems we use to run the show. Both vendors have promised software updates today. We will not be running the show with a lot of tech this morning or this afternoon. We are in a holding pattern until they fix it. Going forward, our system will be isolated and not connected to the Internet, so this shouldn’t ever happen again.”

“What happens if it doesn’t get fixed today?” Asher asked from the other side of the theater.

“We’ll postpone our second preview,” Serafina said. The room immediately erupted into a set of murmured conversations. “I know, I know,” Serafina roared over the group. She waited for the room to die down before she continued. “Many of you have friends or family that are coming tonight. If we reschedule, we will do our best to accommodate all the comp tickets through Weiss’ office.”

“This isn’t what any of us wanted to hear this morning,” San Nicolás cut in. “But for now, we must move on. This morning and maybe this afternoon, we will run the show with a rehearsal pianist. Our esteemed musical director is fixing some issues the orchestra had last night in a different rehearsal studio this morning. Hence, our composer is once again gracing us with his presence to help us run the show.” San Nicolás looked around the room to ensure no other comments. A few people took this as notice to stand up. “But first,” he said, looking at those who had stood. “But first, we have notes. Our stage manager has put together a comprehensive list.”

I pulled out my notebook containing the book and score, along with my trusty number two pencil. I readied myself for whatever Serafina threw at me. She spent almost 45 minutes giving notes. Based on her feedback, I was practically amazed she had time to run the show last night. She went through a list and called off a name. She would then inform that actor of every problem she’d caught. She saw it all, from missed dance steps to going up on a lyric. I had forgotten about her eagle eye for detail.

“Erika Saunders,” Serafina said and looked in my direction. All eyes looked at me as I sat up a little straighter. “I only have a couple of notes for you,” she said, looking at her list. I admit I let out a little sigh of relief. “First, watch the foot you enter on at the top of Act One. We wanted the three of you to be walking in sync with each other. Last night, you were off. Second, on ‘He’ll Drink Too Much, and Laugh Too Much,’ you went flat on the high note. I think it was a breath support issue. Try breathing before the refrain to make sure you have enough steam when building to that note. Last, the quick-change.”

I let out a small, “Snowballs!”

“I know. The quick-change is the bane of your existence,” Serafina acknowledged. “It was decided that the dress change didn’t match the shoes. So, we’re adding a shoe change as well. This means you’ll have less time than we predicted. Two extra dressers will now be assigned to help with that change. We’ll run the quick-change when we get the system up and running.” She contemplated her list and said, “Peeter Gaspari.” Serafina looked around the room and found him sitting over near Asher.

I stopped listening at that point. The first two notes made perfect sense. I knew I was going up on that high note, and I agreed that the breath placement may be the answer. The quick-change shoes made me want to crawl into a hole and go back to sleep. I wasn’t sure how the new addition would work, but I wouldn’t know until the costume designer got here with my new shoes.

The rest of the morning went according to plan. By early afternoon, the software company had patched their software, and everything was working as it should have. I texted Brice and Johnny to tell them the good news about what had happened the previous night. Both texted me back to let me know we weren’t the only show with tech problems the previous evening. Apparently, this system update threw a lot of computers for a loop. On the positive, it meant the story about the computer software update was making waves and making news, so the rough patches of our first preview wouldn’t make as much of a splash as we’d all feared.

That night’s preview went off with no major glitches. The costumer didn’t have my new shoes ready, so I was still wearing the unfortunately mismatched shoes. Honestly, the shoes were black. Black goes with everything, so I didn’t see the big deal.

During intermission, I ran to my dressing room to use the restroom. I’d need to pee since the top of Act One. I knew better. When I was done, Gladys ensured my costume was back on me properly. I had a few minutes left, so I checked out my phone. I had a message from Brice.

“I talked to Benedikt Einar, and he’s seeing The Naughty List tomorrow night. He would like to take you out for a late dinner afterward.“ Well, that was interesting. Brice’s lawyer friend was already planning on coming to our show.

“What’s wrong, Erika?” Gladys asked.

“My agent wants to set me up on a date. The guy’s supposed to be at the show tomorrow night and wants to take me out afterward. I don’t know if I want to deal with that. First dates are hard enough. And after a show, I don’t exactly look like I’m ready for a night on the town.”

Gladys looked at me and said, “If you decide to go on the date, I’m sure I can wrangle up a team to help you get ready. I’ll ask Carlos in the wig and makeup department to help. You know he’ll jump at the chance to turn you into Cinderella.”

The image of watching Carlos do a little glee dance at being asked made me laugh. “I guess that’s one of the true joys of working on Broadway. There’s always a team that has your back.” I texted Brice to tell Mr. Einar that dinner was a go.

Thursday flew by, and the evening show was our best run-through yet. I’m sure Serafina would have notes for us in the morning; she always did, but the notes helped people fine-tune the show. When the final curtain closed, I rushed back to my dressing room. Gladys helped me out of my costume while Carlos took off my wig and the microphone rigging. After a night of hoofing it on stage, I was a hot, sweaty mess, so I took a fast shower. From the front row, we may look like we’re in a winter wonderland where it’s all cold and icicles, but it can be oppressively hot under the heat of the lights. During the winter months, it’s not that bad. But during the summer months, it can be miserable. And heaven forbid you have an air conditioning unit go out during a show. There’s a reason most Broadway houses are cold enough to hang meat in during the summer—it’s so the talent doesn’t pass out on stage.

After my shower, I toweled off and dressed in my undergarments, brushed my teeth, and put on deodorant.

My amazing team was ready to go the second I entered the room. I planned on wearing something a little more casual, but decided to glam it up a bit. I wore a pair of thin-fit blue jeans with a rather tight forest green sweater dress over them. I finished the outfit with a pair of faux leather boots dyed the same color as the dress. In this outfit, I could look both upscale or scaled-down depending on where my date took me. That was one tiny piece of information Brice had not filled me in on. Once Gladys finished making sure my outfit looked perfect, Carlos moved in and quickly did my hair and makeup. Carlos was a wiz. He was fast and could accentuate a girl’s features without making her look over the top. He went with a rose-colored eye shadow that set well against my dress. He wanted to use a nude illusion, so he outlined my lips in a salmon color, then filled them in using a lighter version of lipstick.

By the time he was done with me, I was smoking. I thanked both for their help.

“Any time, girl. You know where to find me,” Carlos said as he left.

Gladys thanked Carlos, too, then bid me a good night. I looked down at my watch and realized only about thirty minutes had passed. I grabbed my coat and headed toward the stage door.

Nicolai was standing next to the stage door when I got there. Part of me was hesitant, but I marched right up to the door as if I owned the place. “Good job tonight,” he said with a single head nod. “You might need this,” and he handed me a marker before he opened the door. A line of fans stood out back, waiting to get autographs and pictures with the cast. I hadn’t considered fans stagedooring when Brice had recommended Benedikt Einar pick me up here.

“Thanks,” I said to Nicolai and exited into the cold. Security personnel stood on each side of the barrier wall to ensure the fans didn’t get too close. I pulled the lid off the marker and turned to the first woman.

“I absolutely loved the show,” the woman gushed. She handed me her Playbill , and I signed it. I then took a selfie with a teenage girl from Columbus, and I signed her Playbill . Down the line I went, talking to adoring fans of all genders and ages. Everyone was so amazingly polite and thanked me for taking the time to greet them. When I got to the end of the line, a Playbill was extended out to me. I accepted it and handed it back to the gloved hand without thinking. Only then did I look at the gloved hand and follow it up to a pair of azure-blue eyes.

“Benedikt!” I said with a surprised gasp.

“Ms. Saunders, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Might I say that you look more beautiful up close than you did radiating from the stage tonight?”

The security guard eyed us for a second, but I nodded, and he let me out. Benedikt offered his arm. He was a tall drink of water. He had to be at least 6‘5“ and built like a fitness model. His blonde hair had a trendy cut that could have walked off the page of any fashion magazine. I smiled as I leaned into him as we walked down the street. As we crossed through Times Square, the holiday decorations were out in force. Everywhere I looked, there were snowmen and women, Santas, elves, Christmas trees, and a menorah or two.

“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked.

“I wanted to be a traditionalist on the first date, so I made a reservation at Sardi’s.” He peered down at me, and those blue eyes practically burrowed into my soul. “If you would prefer, we can always go somewhere else.”

“I think Sardi’s would be lovely. I haven’t been there in years.”

“Perfect.”

We walked over to 44th, crossed Broadway, and walked up to Sardi’s. The place was decently busy for a late Thursday night. We were seated quickly.

“Would you prefer the booth or chair side? I know the booth side makes you more visible to the room. I wasn’t sure if you would prefer the chair, so your back was to the room, offering you a bit more anonymity,” Benedikt said with his gorgeous Icelandic accent.

“I’ll sit in the chair. That way, I can focus my attention on you,” I said with a coy smile.

“Can I help you with your coat?” he asked. I turned my back and let him slip my coat off. Wow, a real gentleman. Then he pulled out my chair and helped me sit down. He took off his woolen overcoat and sat it down next to where he would sit on the booth seat before unbuttoning his suit jacket and sitting opposite me.

Brice had not done this man justice. If there was an entry for Icelandic Deity in the encyclopedia, Benedikt Einar’s picture would be sitting next to it. I stared at the picture-perfect chin with the dimple. His skin looked flawless. I could tell he took good care of himself physically. His pectoral muscles were practically bulging underneath his tie and buttoned-up shirt. Even the black-rimmed glasses stressed his best facial features, forcing you to look deeper into those amazing eyes.

Once we’d ordered, he spent twenty minutes peppering me with questions. He knew what I did for a living, so we bypassed those questions. I told him about my life in New York. He wanted to know what it was like moving to the city after growing up in Des Moines. Unlike some dates where you feel like you’re being interviewed for a newspaper, Benedikt made the conversation seem natural.

“So enough about me,” I said after we’d finished with our salads, “tell me about you. How did you end up in New York?”

“Ahh…interesting story. As you probably know, I’m not exactly from around here. I grew up in Reykjavik, Iceland. I had a cousin who lived here. When I was in high school, I came and stayed with her for a week up in Boston. I fell in love with the US.”

“In Boston?” I said, feigning shock. “I’m surprised you didn’t go running back to Iceland.”

“Ahh, yes. The famous Boston-New York rivalry.”

“Hey, if it wasn’t the Yankees and the Red Sox, I’m sure these two cities would find something else to fight over.”

“You’re probably right.” He lifted the glass of red wine and took a sip. The wine tinged his lips slightly. “After visiting the US, I decided I wanted to come here for my undergraduate degree. Then I went to Yale Law School. I could have gone back to Iceland when I graduated, but several firms here courted me. I’d already fallen in love with the city. Friends and I would travel down from New Haven on the weekends, so making a move to the city was the next logical step in my life.”

“How long have you lived here now?”

“Let me see, I moved here when I was 25, so that would be right at a decade in May.”

The waiter arrived with our meals. I had the cannelloni au gratin. For Italian food, it was some of the lightest I’ve ever eaten. They didn’t give you a ridiculously sized portion. And eating later at night, I wasn’t looking for an enormous meal before bed. Benedikt had a grilled porkchop.

Conversation with Benedikt was effortless and natural. Time passed quickly. Before long, we’d been sitting at Sardi’s for almost two hours, and we were the second to last couple there. I didn’t want to be that couple who prevented the staff from cleaning up and clearing out for the night. I mentioned it to Benedikt, and he immediately paid for our tab. We left Sardi’s and found that it had started to snow.

“I would like to walk you home, if you don’t mind?” he asked.

I considered declining but said, “I think I would like that.” He offered his arm, and we walked the two blocks to my apartment. Even though it was cold, Benedikt’s warmth helped me stave off the cold as snow fell around us. Benedikt didn’t seem to notice the snow as we strolled. But then, he was from Iceland.

We stood outside the building for a couple of minutes talking before I finally asked, “Would you like to come up for a nightcap?”

“I would, but I have an early morning meeting with a client. I’m going to have to decline. But I would like to do this again if you’re amenable?”

“I’m definitely amenable,” I said. I could only imagine how I must look to him as I stood there in the snowy morning hours practically radiating at him.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

“I would very much like it if you kissed me.”

He enveloped me in an embrace. He gently cupped my face before ever so lightly letting our lips connect. The world stopped as we stood there, connected by the thinnest of delicate tissue. When he pulled back, I fluttered a bit. Breaking off the kiss must be what it feels like for a fish yanked out of water. For a second, I couldn’t imagine breathing on my own.

“Good night, Erika,” He turned and started strolling down the street. As he left, he started whistling the overture to The Naughty List . I watched him walk away. I lost track of time. Suddenly, I felt so small and cold standing on the sidewalk, so I forced myself into the warmth of my building.

I nodded at the overnight guard and floated over to the elevator bank. I pushed the button and waited for it to get there. When the elevator opened, I looked up to see Kirk standing in front of me with a load of laundry in his hands.

“You’re up late,” I said, getting into the elevator.

“Whoa,” he said. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Why, thank you, I beamed. My agent, Brice—I don’t think you’ve met him yet—set me up with this Icelandic giant who took me out for a late-night dinner.”

Kirk’s face fell slightly, but he quickly masked whatever he was feeling. “Well, from the way you’re beaming, I’m guessing this one went better than the others?”

“Most definitely,” I said, and let out a contented sigh. “What about you? Why are you up so late?” I asked again.

“I made the mistake of taking a nap when I got home. I slept till 11:00 p.m. I had gotten nothing done before the nap, so I decided to play catch up. And I figured the laundry facilities would be empty at this time of night.”

“Were they?”

“Were they what?”

“Empty?”

“Oh, yeah…they were empty. Well, not completely empty. Someone else was in and out, but that was it.”

The elevator opened on their floor, and I motioned for Kirk to leave first since he was carrying the clothes basket. All I had was my purse.

“Well, I hope you can get back to sleep,” I told Kirk as I got to my door.

“Me too,” he replied. I turned the key in my lock and was about to push the door open when Kirk added, “I’m thrilled this date worked out for you. You deserve a piece of happiness.”

I turned to respond, but he was already in his apartment. I pushed open my door and found a slightly upset Bootsy waiting for me.

“I know. I’m late. Just let me get changed, and we can snuggle before bed. How does that sound?”

Apparently, it sounded fine to him because he turned around and headed right into the bedroom. I flipped on the lights and found him lying in the middle of the bed with his tail flopping, looking at me as he groomed one of his paws.

I got off my clothes and took one more look at myself in the mirror. I had to admit, Santa’s little dressing, makeup, and hair helpers had done an amazing job with me tonight. I needed to get them a gift basket or something.

I washed my face and got into my pajamas. I grabbed my phone, which was on my dresser, and walked back into the living room to put it on its charger. Since I hadn’t done that in a few hours, I looked at the texts.

Brice: How was the date?

Erika: Benedikt is amazing. I think we’ll be seeing more of each other .

I had a text from a number I didn’t recognize, so I opened it.

Unknown: Erika, Rebekka Eldridge. I got your cell phone from your personnel file. We need to talk to you in the morning. I hope you can be in by 8:30.

I rolled my eyes and looked at the clock. I could get about six hours of sleep. After plugging in the phone and setting the alarm clock, I crawled into bed to cuddle with Bootsy. I barely had Bootsy snuggled beside me before drifting into a pleasant sleep.