The Final Act (13 page)

“Mm.” He didn’t bother to explain that his situation was beyond a single disagreement. There was a fundamental distance between him and his parents that had been there as long as he could remember. The current rift was less about his career choice than his parents’ ongoing disappointment in him and his decision to stop trying to win their approval.

“How’s your mom?” he asked. “Gin.” He laid out his cards and added the points.

“Working too hard as always. I wish I could get her to slow down, convince her to work fewer hours.” Elena shook her head. “My earliest memory of my mom is her sewing on her machine while I played with blocks on the floor nearby. She used to take in mending until she built up the capital to buy her first tailor shop.”

Elena picked up the deck and shuffled. Michael watched her slender hands deftly manipulate the cards.

“Now she has three locations and less time to herself than ever. I don’t think she remembers how to relax. That’s my mom.” She dealt their hands with a decisive snap of each card. “Did I tell you I got an e-mail from Trinka?”

“Yeah? How’s she doing?”

“Getting around better, but it’ll be a long while before she can dance again. I told her we all miss her and that Renée is a total bitch.”

“And that’s on a good day.”

“Poor Gretchen’s already homesick and doesn’t need to be living with a spoiled diva on top of it. I don’t think she’s dealing too well. I’m worried about her.”

“She’s got Jake.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He’s a bad influence. You should talk to him. Tell him to stop giving her shit.”

“Me? I don’t even know him. I’ve hardly ever spoken to the guy. Why don’t you talk to Gretchen instead?”

“Denny and I have both tried, but she shut us down. She doesn’t want to admit her drug use might be getting a little out of hand. But if you pointed out to Jake that he’s not being helpful by feeding her Xanax—”

“I don’t think so.”

“He might listen to you. He’d respect you ’cause you guys are alike.”

“How am I
like
a drug-dealing, antisocial loner?” He stared at her over his hand.

“I just meant you’re aloof…distant.” She studied the card she’d picked up, then discarded it.

“Aloof?”

She looked up from her cards. “More like reserved. The kind of person who could suggest things to Jake without pissing him off. Maybe say something about how inexperienced Gretchen is and how he’s influencing her.”

“No problem. I’ll get right on it.”

“I’m serious.” Elena winced as her foot shifted on the pillows. “At first I didn’t think we should interfere either, but Gretchen seems to be worse lately. Her moods are erratic. I don’t know what all he’s got her into.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m not going to say anything to Jake. It’s not my business. Talk to Peters if you’re worried. He’s the stage manager. It’s his job to take care of situations like this.”

Elena frowned. “No. As Gretchen’s friends, we should handle it quietly. I’m not ‘going to the principal’ with it. But fine, don’t talk to Jake. Stupid of me to ask. You wouldn’t want to become involved or put yourself out for someone.”

Declining to point out that he’d just helped her to her room and tended to her foot, Michael scooped up the scattered cards on the bed. It hurt that she thought of him as selfish. “I don’t want to fight. Can’t we hang out without arguing for once?”

“Sure.” Elena turned her attention to rearranging her cards.

For the next few minutes the soft guitar music and quiet snap of cards as they laid them down were the only sounds in the room.

“I’m not aloof.” Michael discarded a five of spades.

Elena drew from the pile. “I said ‘reserved’.”

“You said ‘aloof’ first.”

“You do tend to close yourself off. Sometimes I wonder if you feel anything.” Elena laid down a trio of queens and a run of spades. “Gin.”

His jaw clenched. “Not everyone expresses every single thought that passes through his mind. What makes you think I don’t have feelings?”

Elena folded her arms below her breasts. Her nipples pointed sharply against the fabric. Michael stared at her bruised foot instead.

“Okay. I’ll give you an example,” she said. “When I asked what you draw on to call up tears every performance, you said, ‘It’s just acting. It doesn’t mean anything’.”

“That’s right.”

“How cold does a person have to be to cry on command and feel nothing?”

He shook his head and gave her a thin smile. “Pretty cold, I guess.”

Stung by her papercut comments, he set down his cards and rose. “I should get going. There was some stuff I wanted to do this afternoon. Anything else you want before I leave? Juice from the vending machine? An aspirin?”

Elena unfolded her arms, and looked at him with worried eyes. Her voice softened. “I’m sorry. That was so rude. I’m too blunt. I always talk without thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not. That would require feeling, which I’m told I don’t do.” Michael kept his tone level and almost made it out the door before his temper overtook him and he turned around.

“You’ve had a problem with me ever since we met. I’ve never said much, but if we’re going to dissect characters, I could mention some of your qualities.” He ticked off on his fingers. “Controlling, anal-retentive, stubborn, opinionated, bossy, know-it-all. It seems Renée’s not the only diva in the cast.”

With satisfaction, he noted her wide eyes and dropped jaw, before he strode from the room, mentally adding,
And sexy as hell
.
The woman made Jennifer Sorenson seem bland as tapioca.

Scene Two: Kansas City

After the constant cold rain in St. Paul, Kansas City’s arid weather felt like heaven. They performed in the Starlight, one of only three outdoor theaters left in the entire country. Although planned in the Twenties, it hadn’t been finished until the Nineteen-fifties when Kansas City’s hundredth anniversary celebration revived community interest in the building. Backstage was tight and cramped, and the tech crew complained about the logistics of the venue, but Gretchen adored the ambiance of the open sky above. It added a new dimension to the show.

She couldn’t get used to the patchwork schedule of their performance dates. Before she’d been cast in
Transitions,
she’d assumed touring shows followed a logical geographic progression from one large city to the next, state by state. But in actuality show dates were all over the map based on availability of a suitable venue.

Gretchen sat on the edge of the bed under stage lights and a starry sky, gazing at Renée with love and longing. The lights cast the other woman’s reclining body in twilight blue while the spotlight focused on Gretchen, singing the yearning song, “My Lover’s Hands”. She stroked her palm over the slope of Renée’s shoulder, wishing she could pinch the bitch. Rising, she wandered to the dresser and plucked a flower from a bouquet Renée’s character, Jen, had given her earlier in the scene. Then Gretchen moved center stage into a rosy pink spotlight where she belted out the chorus of the song. Her voice rose to a crescendo, the final note trembling and echoing in the hushed air.

There was a moment’s appreciative pause, before the audience burst into loud applause. Gretchen sent a mental jeer at the critic who’d panned her in
Variety
. The applause felt like warm syrup poured all over her body, something she’d actually experienced since getting involved with Jake.

Gretchen and Renée exited the stage, hurrying to change before their next scene.

“You stepped on my last line in the proposal again,” Renée informed her.

Gretchen remained silent, since refusing to engage with her seemed to irritate Renée most. They’d been over the subject several times. When Gretchen had performed with Trinka, they’d decided the interruption made Audrey sound exuberant and eager in a way she never had been during her relationship with Bill. It was a detail they both agreed added to the character. But Renée hadn’t performed it that way on Broadway and didn’t intend to start.

Gretchen considered herself generally an even-tempered person who avoided confrontation so she’d conceded the point rather than start out her relationship with Renée on the wrong foot. Only occasionally she forgot and did it the old way.

Renée complained every time she made the mistake, the interruption of her speech being one in a long list of the diva’s complaints. She had opinions about every aspect of the show, which she wasn’t afraid to share. As an original cast star, she considered herself the expert on
Transitions
.

“Did you hear me? You stepped on my line,” Renée repeated.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Gretchen walked faster, peeling off her camisole before she reached the changing room.

“You were a little sharp on the high E in the last measure.”

“Thanks for noticing.” Gretchen grabbed her dress from the rack and slipped it over her head.

“If you leave the camisole on underneath your dress, you’ll save time,” Renée pointed out as she donned a blouse and slacks for the next scene.

Gretchen didn’t bother to explain the camisole underneath the tight bodice made it look lumpy. Her performance high was rapidly evaporating, replaced by the nervous tension her roommate inspired. She wished she’d taken a second Xanax before the show and wondered if another would kick in soon enough to do any good. Renée’s relentless jabs were beginning to make her feel like one big, walking wound.

“I’m just trying to help. If you listen to me, you can benefit from my experience.”

Gretchen frantically searched for her other high heel. She’d checked all her costume pieces before Act Two began and both shoes had been in place then.

“Lost a shoe? You should always check your costumes and props before curtain,” Renée said helpfully.

Crouching down to look beneath the clothing rack, Gretchen spotted her shoe, grabbed it and slipped it on.

“Hurry!” Renée led the way back toward the stage.

Gretchen glared at the other woman’s back, ready to drive a stake through it and find out if she would blow away in a cloud of dust. It was ironic that the next scene was their engagement party, during which she had to beam love at her nemesis.
She’s Jen and you’re Audrey. You want to share a lifelong commitment with her. You’re in love
. Pasting on a smile, she took her place.

By the time they reached the final reprise of “We Are All” and the curtain fell, she was anxious, jittery and ready to kick back and be alone with Jake, just the two of them, and a little something to take the edge off.

Gretchen removed her make-up at the dressing room mirror. The scent of hairspray, stage make-up, sweat and too many kinds of deodorant perfumed the air in the women’s changing room.

Elena sat beside her and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “Good show tonight. You did great.”

“Thanks. I was a little sharp on that high E in my solo.”

“I don’t think so.” Elena dabbed cold cream underneath her eye. “Coming out with us?”

“I think Jake and I have plans.” Gretchen brushed out her crunchy, hair-sprayed curls.

Elena carefully wiped off her eyeliner. “You should both come. Everybody’s going tonight. Even your best friend, Renée, said she’d grace us with her illustrious presence.”

“Maybe. I’ll see what Jake wants to do.” Gretchen knew he’d want to stay in. He wasn’t a social guy.

Elena regarded Gretchen’s reflection. “I feel like I don’t ever see you anymore.”

“Of course you do. Every night.”

“I mean socially.” She paused. “I know what it’s like when you first hook up with a guy. There’s no one but the two of you and no one you’d rather be with. I understand.”

“But…?” Gretchen set the brush down on the counter with a click.

“Okay. Here goes.” Elena sucked a breath through her teeth and grimaced. “Don’t get pissed. Just hear me out, okay? I’m sure Jake’s a great guy, but I’m a little worried about the way we never see you anymore and, um…the pills and whatever else.”

Gretchen kept her face composed, but her jaw clenched, and her pulse beat faster. She didn’t want to hear this shit from Elena. “Don’t be.”

“It seems like the drugs might be more than recreational. I know you really like Jake, but maybe—”

“Don’t even go there. He’s all that’s keeping me sane,” Gretchen snapped. “I love…being with him. He’s the one thing on the road that feels like home.” She tossed her make-up into the plastic case and closed the lid hard. “Living with Renée is driving me crazy, and staying in one hotel room after another… The last thing I need is a lecture from you, too.”

“I get it.” Elena wiped her hands on a cloth. “Tell you what, how would you like to switch roommates with me? I’ll take Renée off your hands for a while. Cara’s easy to live with…if you don’t mind a mess. Maybe that will help with your tension.”

“I’m not tense!” Gretchen rose from the chair. Elena’s offer was actually extremely generous, but she felt irritable and perverse. “Thanks, but I’ll deal with Renée on my own. I don’t need your help.”

She strode from the room, on the verge of tears yet again, which seemed to happen a lot lately. Her moods varied every hour of the day. She alternated between being homesick and loving her new life. Sometimes she wasn’t sure who she was anymore, like she’d left her old self behind in Chesterton and hadn’t grown comfortable in her new skin yet. The only constant was her strong feeling for Jake. Seeing him, being with him, was the best part of her day. He always made her feel better.

Later that evening as she lay in his arms, in his bed, with the world safely on the other side of the door, Gretchen regretted yelling at Elena, who’d only been trying to help.

Jake passed the joint to her. “What’s wrong?”

Gretchen turned her head so she wouldn’t drop ash on his bare chest, and took a hit. She let it out slowly and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Renée?”

“Well, yeah, always, but this time it was Elena being nosy. I snapped at her, and I shouldn’t have.” She handed the joint back to Jake.

He pinched it out and set it in the ashtray resting on his belly, then set the tray on the nightstand. “She doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t know you. No one does. You don’t really talk to them.”