The Final Act (7 page)

“About two.” Jake pulled her to her feet and slipped an arm around her waist.

Trinka slapped her shoulder. “Lightweight. You didn’t drink that much.”

She zoned out again during the ride back to the hotel and Jake had to rouse her again. He walked her to her room and they paused outside her door.

“I had a nice time tonight. I’m glad you came out with us,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I was great fun, falling asleep on you.”

He just smiled. “Maybe we could go out sometime. On a date.”

“I’d like that.” Gretchen returned his smile, surprised at how comfortable she felt with him. They’d barely talked, but she didn’t feel like he was a stranger—and she definitely wanted to see him again.

“Good.” He cupped her face, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, then leaned in, and kissed her. When he stepped back, his eyelids were still lowered. The contrast of the long, thick brush of his lashes against his angular cheeks was alluring.

For a moment, she considered asking him into her room, then Jake opened his eyes and looked at her. “If you ever need anything to help with nerves, I can get it for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

His offer was sweet and well meant, although she didn’t intend to take him up on it. Impulsively, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss, much longer and deeper than the goodnight peck he’d given her.

Finally, she pulled away and stepped back. “Okay. Goodnight.”

Jake looked slightly dazed. “’Night.”

Gretchen turned and walked into the room she shared with Trinka. It was strange that she was only down the hallway from Jake but had never interacted with him before tonight. How wonderful that a person never knew where the day might take her. Life was an adventure, full of exciting possibilities. Smiling, she touched her fingers to her lips.

Scene Three: Opening Night

“I hate you. How can you be so calm?” Elena paced the Green Room from end to end, turned and retraced her steps. “The fact that you’re not nervous makes me more nervous.” She glared at Michael. “Please, no ad libs tonight. I can’t take it.”

“Who says I’m not nervous?” Michael turned up a three of spades and laid it on a four of diamonds, then leaned back and looked around the room. Everyone was preparing for the performance in his or her own way. Elena’s evidently included bitching at him.

Logan was like a squirrel on speed, bopping around the room, talking to one person or another. Right now he was busy teasing Cara, Elena and Trinka’s understudy. He hadn’t stopped chattering or moving for the past hour.

In contrast, Denny sat in a corner muttering to himself, either practicing lines or “becoming” Richard. Gretchen was at the make-up mirror staring at her reflection and humming quietly. Her eyes looked a little glazed, making Michael wonder if she was on something. The girl had been spending a lot of time with Jake Bosch over the past couple of weeks.

Some of the chorus members chatted together or sang bits of music. Others were drawn into themselves like Denny and Gretchen.

“Damn it!” Trinka stormed into the room. “I lost my lucky penny. Has anyone seen a penny?”

“Are you serious?” Logan asked.

“Yes. Shut up. It’s not weird. Athletes do it all the time—wear the same underwear while they’re on a winning streak or whatever.”

Logan tousled her hair as he passed. “You’re wearing underwear, Trinka? That’s gotta be a first.”

“I
need
my penny!” Trinka searched the counter beneath the make-up mirrors.

“Penny?” Michael asked Elena on her next pass.

Elena stopped walking. “She found it in the parking lot the first day of auditions and has carried it ever since, because she thinks it helped her get cast.”

Michael laughed.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a Dumbo’s feather. It works for her,” Elena said. “Not everyone is as cool as you. Some people need a little confidence boost.” She resumed pacing.

“Hah,” Trinka shouted, waving a tarnished coin. “It was in my pocket.”

“Whew! Crisis averted,” Logan said.

“Places in ten minutes,” the stage manager’s voice announced over the sound system.

Michael’s stomach lurched. He put down his cards and rose.

“Where are you going?” Elena asked as she passed him again.

“Outside.”

He exited through the rear door into the alley. The air was cool and fresh, except for the scent of garbage occasionally wafting from the dumpster and cigarette smoke from Bill lounging against the wall of the building.

“Hey. What’s up? Is it time?” Bill asked.

“Almost.”

“Nervous?”

Michael shrugged.

Bill offered his pack of cigarettes.

“No, thanks.” Michael walked to the mouth of the alley and stared down the street at the garish, neon lights marking restaurants and businesses. There was a queue outside a couple of currently trendy restaurants. The sidewalk was filled with people. He wondered if any of them were on their way to see the show. It occurred to him how easy it would be to simply walk away, become part of the crowd and fade into the night. The idea was appealing.

Phil Pender’s voice giving a pre-show speech intended to pump them up ran on a repeating loop in his head.

“The producers wanted to build this show around a couple of big name actors, but I knew it would be a mistake. This story is yours—young people struggling to make their way in the world, finding out who they are, who they want to be. I chose each of you for something unique you brought to your character, and each of you has brought an exciting energy to
Transitions.
You’ve proven to me my intuition that a ‘no-name’ cast was the right approach. Tonight you’ll prove it to an audience, and I’m sure both the audience and critics will recognize the superior show we’ve created. I’m proud of you all.”

“Proud” wasn’t something Michael was used to hearing. He could deal with being a disappointment. Coming from the family he did, he’d grown used to the feeling. Pender’s expectations seemed like a heavy burden. What if he couldn’t measure up? What if he was a total, fucking flop tonight and dragged the entire show down with him? What if his father’s estimation of him being a failure was right?

Blowing out a long breath, he sucked in another, redolent of garlic from a nearby Italian restaurant. He walked back down the alley toward Bill. “Come on. Let’s do it.”

Bill tossed his cigarette and ground it underfoot.

“You know you’re going to wreck your voice if you keep smoking those things.”

“I’m aware,” Bill said. “One step at a time, my therapist says. Anyway, I’m down to, like, three a day. That’s pretty good.”

Michael knew Bill smoked easily half a pack a day, but kept his mouth shut. He opened the door and the two men entered the building.

The Green Room was empty except for Austen, the stage manager’s assistant, looking a little frazzled. “Come on, you guys. Places! This isn’t a high school production. It’s unprofessional to make me have to come looking for you.”

“Yes, boss. Sorry,” Michael said.

“Everyone’s on, Kurt.” Austen spoke into his headset to the stage manager, Kurt Peters.

On stage, Michael faced the false window and listened to the steady murmur of the audience on the other side of the curtain. His pulse beat steadily. His senses sharpened as adrenaline coursed through his bloodstream, electrifying every cell in his body. It was like being hopped up on speed; euphoria and anxiety mixed in a heady cocktail.

The overture started. He breathed slowly in and out, lightly clenching and unclenching his fingers, waiting to begin. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he glanced at Gretchen, who stood nearest him. Her pale hair caught and reflected the ambient light. Michael smiled at her and, in the darkness, saw an answering flash of white teeth.

The overture ended and Terry played the opening bars of “We Are All” on his keyboard as the curtains opened and the spotlight hit Elena.

Michael burned with suppressed energy, and when his verse came, the energy rocketed through him, exploding into sound. As he sang the familiar words and moved around the stage, he felt in control yet outside of himself at the same time.

The song rolled along, then it was over. The first act hurtled from one scene to the next and it was like riding an express train.

Near the end of Act One in the party scene, Michael and Elena kissed and cuddled in the background of Gretchen and Bill’s argument. Michael nuzzled Elena’s neck carefully so as not to mess up her make-up. “Having fun yet?” he murmured near her ear.

She rested her forehead against his and smiled. “It’s great!” she mouthed so her mic wouldn’t pick up the words. She kissed him lightly.

His slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, then kissed the top of her head before looking up to react to Gretchen and Bill’s escalating argument. He was so damn happy to be here, it was a struggle to achieve a look of concern.

He rose and crossed the stage to Bill, where he pantomimed trying to calm him down.

Trinka as Jen, Gretchen’s new friend and eventual love interest in Act Two, entered the scene, complicating things further. The couple’s argument evolved into an angry rock number, “Since When?”, as the friends’ festering issues with one another exploded. Accusations and recriminations rose in a cacophony of sound. At the end of the number, each voice held its final note in a dissonant wail. The characters were scattered across the stage, each in his or her own isolated bubble of space, signifying the fragmentation of their group.

Michael’s chest rose and fell. Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled into his eyes, but he waited a beat after the blackout to wipe it.

The exciting song brought thunderous applause from the audience. Act One could have ended on that high, dramatic note in his opinion, but Aaron and Kathleen’s breakup also came before intermission.

Offered a job in another city, Kathleen tried to get a commitment from Aaron, who wouldn’t ask her to stay or proclaim his love. The act ended on Kathleen’s plaintive plea, “Don’t Hurt Me”, before walking out, leaving Aaron alone on stage.

Head bowed, eyes trained on the floor, Michael waited for the spotlight to extinguish then walked from the stage with applause ringing in his ears and triumph swelling in his heart. This show was a success. He was a success. For the first time in his life he felt confident about his choice of career.
Take that, Dad.

But even as he exulted in the rush of audience approval, Michael knew stage triumph would prove nothing to his father. It wasn’t acting as a career that was unacceptable. He must do this for himself. It shouldn’t matter what his dad thought. But on some elemental level, he knew it always would.

Denny sat in the make-up chair, adding faint age lines to the corners of his eyes and between his brows with a pencil. The second act began with the friends meeting again several years later for Bill’s funeral.

There was a lot more emotional range for the character of Richard in the second act as he changed from an idealistic college boy to a career-obsessed man on the fast track to political stardom. There was a meaty clash between Logan’s character, Zach, still the revolutionary, and Richard, who believed in working for change from inside the existing political structure.

While part of Denny’s mind geared up for Act Two, most of his focus was on Tom. He would see him tonight for the first time in almost two months, and it was a toss up whether he was more keyed about the opening of the show or seeing his boyfriend again.

They hadn’t talked since Tom called from the airport that morning. Denny feared something had happened to keep him from coming. He wouldn’t be comfortable until he actually saw him after the show and held him in his arms again.

Denny was worried about much more than Tom possibly missing the show. Lately, he’d seemed preoccupied when they talked on the phone, and Denny needed to see him, look in his eyes, to know everything was all right between them.

Slicking back his hair to create a receding hairline, he sprayed it to hold it in place. He took the towel from around his neck and brushed stray powder off his shirtfront. Rising, he walked around the room, too wired to sit still.

Gretchen was bent over, polishing a scuff on one of her shoes.

“Hey, Gretch, great job tonight.”

“Thanks. Are we going too fast? It seems really fast tonight.”

“Maybe a little. Our energy’s up, but I don’t think we’re rushing.” He took in her wide, dilated eyes and her twitchiness and wondered if she was on something. She spent a lot of time with Jake these days doing whatever it was they did and hardly confided in Denny anymore, but he was too tweaked to worry about it now. He’d make a point to talk to her soon.

Intermission passed quickly and they took their places for the next act, which began with an exposition song, “Older, Not Wiser”. Denny thought it was the weakest number in the show, although necessary to explain what the characters had done during the intervening years.

After the opening song and the funeral tribute, the friends talked about old times. Kathleen and Aaron’s attraction still sizzled under the surface. Richard cast pining looks at Kathleen and argued with Zach about ideals. Denny and Logan had their moment to shine in the fiery duet that was their quarrel and their performance was rewarded with loud applause.

Offstage, Denny patted sweat from his face and watched Elena and Michael’s scene from the wings. The former lovers talked about the past and how their lives diverged. Aaron claimed their relationship never would have worked, but the yearning duet “It’s Not Who We Are” only underscored the fact they were the “destined” couple of the show.

Musical theater managed to distill the most complex relationships to archetypes, and true love was a must. Maybe that’s why people loved musicals. They made life simple. Denny smiled as he watched Elena and Michael do their magic, eliciting sparks the audience could feel all the way to the highest tier of seats.

The tension escalated in the next scenes as Kathleen became involved with Richard’s political campaign, covered by journalist, Michael. The three resumed the tense triangle of their college years. Audrey and Jen planned a non-traditional wedding, pushing a hot-button issue that threatened Richard’s campaign if he dared attend. Then Anarchist Zach endangered everyone with a homemade bomb set off during a rally.