Confessions of a Transylvanian (41 page)

After a second of two of silence, he finally spoke up.

“Go ahead. Ask. You know you want to,” he said, not even bothering to look at me.

“Okay, fine,” I responded. “Wha
t’
s the deal with this girl, huh? Why so touchy?”

“Yo
u’
ll find out soon enough,” Ron replied. “I
t’
s…hard to describe.”

Not satisfied, I pressed on. “Well, I mean—is she just a real bitch or some gigantic skank or—”

“I said,” he interrupted, “yo
u’
ll see.” He got out of the car and slammed the door as punctuation. Without a glance back at me, he made his way toward the theater. The conversation was clearly over.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Later, when we were loading the props and equipment into the theater, I caught sight of this girl standing with Russ. At first I figured it could
n’
t be the infamous “Piranha,” as she looked about as harmless a young thing as you could imagine. Short, curly hair of a sort of mousy brown-blonde, freckled nose and an enormous pair of green eyes. I was soon proven wrong, though, when I heard someone call out, “Charley!” and saw her face light up in recognition.

She certainly did
n’
t
look
like a marine predator.

Charley seemed relaxed, chatting casually with Russ who was, in turn, introducing her to various cast members as they made their way into the theater. Sometimes Charley would spot someone she knew from the old Twin days and the
y’
d embrace. But mostly she just shook hands politely and took in her surroundings. She was clearly awed at the majesty that was the Ultravision.

Once I finally finished helping to move all the props into place, I made my way over to get a close-up view for myself.

“Jack!” Russ called out. “Get over here. This is Charley. Charley, this is this yea
r’
s reigning champ as Most Promising New Cast Member, young Jack. H
e’
s gonna be your Dr. Scott tomorrow.”

“Hi!” said Charley sunnily, sticking out her hand. Her face split into a gracious smile and as we made our introductions it struck me how much she reminded me of Holly. Sweet, harmless and totally unthreatening.

Ron, I was thinking to myself, was completely off his nutter. This girl was a sweetheart.

Russ walked Charley around the theater, explaining where various scenes happened in our show and where sh
e’
d need to be when she played Frank the following night. Charley listened attentively, asking the occasional question. She met Boyd, who was performing Frank this evening, and they talked a bit, too. He looked a bit dubious that this tiny thing was capable of pulling off a Tim Curry impersonation, but then…that was
n’
t his problem.

Finally, the pre-show swung into action, the movie cranked up and we were off. Everything seemed to be going fine, but I did notice that Ron was almost imperceptibly tensed up throughout the entire proceedings. You probably could
n’
t see it from the audience, but as close up as I was, I could tell that he was wound as tight as
I’
d ever seen him. Hit this guy with a hammer, I thought, and h
e’
d ring like a church bell. Weird.

The show finished up, the crowd applauded and we packed up for Denn
y’
s. Charley begged off. She wanted to rest for her big debut tomorrow. She left with a smile and a wave, saying how much she was looking forward to her big night with us.

And that was it. Charley the Piranha had shown up at the Ultravision and simply charmed the hell out of everyone.

“So…tha
t’
s the Wicked Witch, huh?” I said to Ron as he was getting back in his car. I was needling him on purpose, due to the fact that he had so clearly proven himself to be an utterly paranoid fruitcake.

Ron did
n’
t bat an eye. “What, her?” he said, jerking a thumb at Charle
y’
s departing vehicle. “Tha
t’
s not who
I’
m talking about.”

“Tha
t’
s not Charley Paretta? Is that what yo
u’
re saying?”

Ron looked at me sadly and shook his head. Clearly, I was a moron. “No, Jack. Tha
t’
s Charley Paretta. Sh
e’
s a nice girl, is
n’
t she? I like her a lot.”

He got in his car and turned the key. The engine rumbled to life.

“Tomorrow, you meet the Piranha. And I ca
n’
t wait for you to tell me what you think of
her
.”

Saturday night arrived and I got to the Ultravision parking lot a little late. While I had no specific expectations, I was definitely looking forward to this evenin
g’
s show. I had never done Rocky with a female Frank-N-Furter and it was undoubtedly going to be a unique experience. After all, i
t’
s one thing to watch a guy flounce around in a sexy pair of fishnets all night. But a young lady? This I could
n’
t wait to see.

I looked around the parking lot for Charley, but did
n'
t spot her. Russ was there, talking to a dark-haired stranger in a leather jacket. As I sidled over to Russ to find out if Charley was running late, the stranger whipped around and I stopped, frozen in my tracks. It was Charley.

And yet…it was
n’
t.

Instead of her natural curls, Charley now wore a shoulder-length, black, curly wig that matched Tim Curr
y’
s tresses from the film identically. Her black leather coat was also straight from the movie, an exact duplicate of the jacket Frank wears late in the film. And it was clear that, underneath, she had already changed into her Frank costume. A hint of bustier peeked out of the jacket and her legs were already fishnet-clad.

But what had really stopped me were her eyes.

I do
n’
t know how much time she had spent that evening trying to get the Frank-N-Furter makeup exactly right, but it had clearly been time well spent. Her eyebrows were now lush and black instead of girly and cute. Her lips were crimson and outlined by a faint sliver of black. And her eyes, which had seemed big and beautiful the day before, now stared out at me from a deep cavern of liner and eye shadow.

“Jack, is
n’
t it?” she purred. “I remember
you
.” She looked as if she wanted to
eat
me. It was terrifying.

I tried to say something, a greeting of some kind maybe, but the words just died in my throat. I could
n’
t rip my eyes away from her. The mousy girl from the night before had transformed into a fucking panther and she looked ready to pounce.

“Jack.” Russ broke the spell, calling my attention away from Charley. “I think the theate
r’
s open. Better get started, huh?”

For a second, I had
n’
t the slightest clue what he was talking about but then my mind returned from whatever alternate universe Charley had sent me and I refocused. Muttering, “Sure, sure,” I wandered off toward the storage closet. Before I left, I snuck a final glance.

There they were again. Those eyes.

“See you in a bit, Jack. Ca
n’
t
wait
to start the show.” I swear, her voice had dropped an octave from the previous evening.

I’
d like to be able to tell you that I responded coherently to her. Some snappy rejoinder or witty remark. Instead, I made a sound that was more or less in the area of, “Bluh.” Something impressive like that. And then I got away from her as fast as I could.

Suddenly, everything Ron had said made perfect sense.

I had finally met...the Piranha.

Thankfully, Charley stayed out of the theater during the pre-show. I do
n’
t know what kind of moron I would have made of myself if I had been asked to do the warm-up under her watchful eye. After all, you ca
n’
t properly rev up a crowd by just saying “Bluh” repeatedly, so
I’
m glad I did
n’
t have to find out.

When I went into the ladies room to get changed, there she was again. Sitting in front of the huge mirror, shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the cast, she was putting some finishing touches on her magnificent Frank makeup. Her leather jacket was carefully folded on the counter.

And then I saw it.

Etched in black and red ink on Charle
y’
s back, just below her right shoulder, was a tattoo. But not just any tattoo. It was probably the most recognizable tattoo in Rockyland.

In the film, as you doubtless remember, Frank-N-Furter has inked onto his right shoulder the word “BOSS.” Below it is a red heart with a knife thrust through the middle, with a few drops of blood squirting forth.

Mark, Billy and Boyd (and everybody who ever played Frank) would take the time before the show each night to sketch the BOSS tattoo onto their own shoulders with magic markers. It was a time-honored Frank-N-Furter ritual.

But this one...this one was
real
. No magic markers for this girl. Hers was forever seared into her flesh. And this was in an era when young girls did
n’
t often sport tattoos the way they do now. Back then, it was mostly bikers and merchant marines who got inked to that degree. This was a level of commitment you did
n’
t see every day.

“Like what you see?”

The voice shook me out of my reverie. I looked up and found that Charley was staring at my reflection in the mirror, piercing me with her eyes like a butterfly on a corkboard. And her smile. It was otherworldly. The way she was grinning at me would have given Ford Prefect the heebie-jeebies.

I said something non-committal and brilliant like, “Huh-buh-gah-jah,” and got swiftly dressed for the show, dashing out of the bathroom as though pursued by ninjas.

Back in the theater, the previews were still running and I saw, by the light of the “Blues Brothers,” that Ron was just pulling on his jacket for the wedding scene. I made a beeline over to him.

“Um...I think I owe you an apology,” I said.

Ron was unsurprised. “Oh, so you finally met her, huh?” I nodded. “Yeah, I thought you might change your tune after that.”

“Well, sh
e’
s so...” I started. I searched for the words. I came up empty. I gave up. “What
is
she?” I finally asked.

“Tonight?” Ron said, putting his final touches on his costume. “Tonight, sh
e’
s Frank-N-Furter, body and soul, brother.” He smiled nervously at me. “Wish me luck.”

Off he went.

And all I could think was:
Via con Dios, mi compadre
.

Once the movie actually starts, the character of Frank-N-Furter does
n’
t show up for a good fifteen minutes. There are four full musical numbers, a whole lot of narration and a great deal of exposition to get through. This was fortunate, as it not only allowed us to get fully caught up in the performance, it also put some distance between us and our guest star.