Finally, Jerry excused himself to work on his own projects, and Robyn sat on the couch with Sweeney beside her, fully reclined on his special pillow. She’d decided she wasn’t going to beg for the information anymore. Doing so was giving Sean an invitation to torment her. When he came back to sit beside her, he had a fresh cup of coffee.
“So, you’ve decided to stop talking. I like it. It means you’ll be fully engaged in the listening part of this conversation.”
“I always listen to you, Sean. Some might say you’re the only one I have listened to in years.”
“If that were true, you would’ve never married he whose name I shall not speak, or, at the very least, you would’ve left him sooner.”
“Anyway—”
“So, you want to know about Katharine.”
“I don’t think it’s a want as much as it is a need. Why her, Sean? Is there really no way to work it out with Michelle, or get someone else?”
“No, there isn’t. Before you interrupt, let me finish.”
“I wasn’t going to interrupt.”
He just raised his eyebrows at her in unison and proceeded. “I would’ve put Kat in from the beginning, if I hadn’t had a very good second choice. The only reason the role wasn’t offered to her first is because Michelle, although not as seasoned, would be equally wonderful in the role and could fill as many seats. Now that Michelle can’t complete the run, I’m back to my first choice. There isn’t a third. There wasn’t one when we started, and that hasn’t changed.”
“This just blows!” Setting Sweeney out of her lap, Roby got up to pace behind the grey leather couch. “If she wasn’t available, what would you do?” Let him wiggle out of that, she thought.
“She’d make herself available, and it’s the same reason I know she’ll accept the role and not do anything to mess it up.”
“Joseph isn’t as confident. He doesn’t think that she’ll even make it through tech week without some sort of monumental breakdown.”
“Did he tell you about their history?”
The cushion muffled Roby’s answer. “Yes, Tata, he did,” she said, leaning over the back of the couch in virtual collapse. She didn’t even take notice of how soft and saddened her voice had become.
“Come here, my girl.”
He knew she only called him Tata when she was emotionally shaky. He never made a big deal of it. It simply evolved over the years. It was a term of endearment written into one of the shows they’d worked on when she was still his student. What started out being said teasingly eventually stuck. She flopped down next to him and placed her head on his shoulder.
“I don’t want to do hard right now. I can’t handle hard right now.”
“Why is this suddenly so hard?” came his prompt for her to continue and explain.
“I know you. You obviously lobbied for me to get this job. The man wasn’t the least bit interested in my presence at that first meeting. You know the both of us and clearly saw a reason we should work together. You’re a sneaky old matchmaker.”
“I plead the fifth. Just know I want you both happy. Your happiness is all I’ve ever wanted. That’s why I begged you to leave the—”
“Whatever. I know. But you know I’m right. Better still, I think you’re right.” Robyn sat up and took his hand. “He’s been really good to me and for me. He’s so caring, not to mention a brilliant director. I could see myself working with him again, quite easily. He just naturally looks out for me, and for once I don’t want to fight against it all the time. I just want the chance to see where this could go. How will I do that with a crazy ex-girlfriend literally waiting in the wings?”
“There was a lot of wrong on both sides, darling. He’ll have to forgive and get pass it, the exact way I told her she would have to do.”
“What did she say to that?” Roby asked.
“She was gracious and sweet as a cup of Southern tea on summer day, which means I didn't believe a word of it.”
“So, I’m right? We do have something to worry about? This is going to unravel around us.”
“No, it won’t, because all you need to do is not engage,” Sean said. “You won’t win, anyway.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Not what I meant. She won’t come at you like a jealous ex. It isn’t her style. She’ll come after you as a stage manager. She will nitpick and make every attempt to dress you down publically. All you have to do is bring your A-game all the time and don’t rise to the bait.”
“That’s pretty much what Joseph said,” Roby allowed. “It just feels like she’s going to walk in the door gunning for me. It’s making me feel a little paranoid. I just learned all of his ways and—”
“And? What aren’t you telling me?”
“What if she’s so good at pointing out my faults that he sees how deficient I am, and decides he doesn’t need the headache of coaching me to his way? What if he just brings in someone else?”
“Do you for a minute believe I would ever let that happen?”
She didn’t want to believe it, but fear was a powerful emotion. All of her insecurities rose to the surface when she was challenged as a stage manager, because, as good as she was, Robyn didn’t have her degree in theatre, and she wasn’t a part of the union. She wasn’t a, quote-unquote, professional, in the traditional sense, and whenever it came up, her fear of inadequacy was palpable. She hadn’t shared those fears with anyone but her ex-husband, and his sound advice was that she was never going to be a professional, so she’d be better off quitting and focusing on the career she’d invested so much time, money, and education on.
“Come with me,” Sean said.
Taking her hand, he pulled her into his office, which he refused to share with his husband, the retired lawyer. It seemed to go against type that the lawyer was disorganized, and the artist was fastidious. He proceeded to take out old prompt books, show photos, and playbills for her. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves that held beautiful binders with the year embossed in gold. Each binder held show archives from just about every project the man had worked on. Of course, over the years she’d seen many of them, but the finished project of putting it all together was gorgeous. He and Jerry had been together for twenty-five years, and this had been his gift.
“You know I love going down memory lane with you more than anyone, Sean, but why are we doing this now?”
“What does this say?”
“It lists the running crew for the show. 1973. I wasn’t even born.”
“You weren’t even a thought. This one?”
“Um, light board op, 1975. I’m guessing there’s a point.”
“Smarty-pants. Yes, there’s a point, and as many of my classes as you took, with and without credit, you should already see it. We all start somewhere. Degrees and union cards are wonderful things to strive for, but they’re not the only way to get the job or to get the job done. The first seven books are filled with work I’m extremely proud of and work that I did well—mostly well. I traveled, I taught, I worked in tiny houses and amphitheaters, and they all taught me something. I used that knowledge to move me forward, and the biggest thing that union card got me was access to better paying jobs. Believe me, Joseph James Davis suffers no fools, and I couldn’t have strong-armed him hard enough, if you weren’t up to the job. The only way you won’t be up for it is if you let Katharine Dresden get inside your head and convince you that you don’t belong there.”
She was hearing and listening, every word touching her auditory nerves and the center of her soul. Her vision was less clear, as her chocolate brown orbs were swimming in tears. Here was unconditional belief that she could do this, and her heart was full to bursting. She had to have as much faith in herself as the man beside her.
“You really hear what I’m saying to you now.”
The books slid off her lap as she stood up to embrace one of her biggest cheerleaders.
“Oh, Tata, what would I do without you?�
�
“Hopefully, it’ll be years before we need to figure that out.”
“I love you.”
Snuggling her in close, he returned the sentiment.
Chapter Eight
Things worked precisely as Joseph and Sean had predicted, and at the end of her forty-eight hours, Michelle came in with tears in her eyes to turn in her script, pick up the few things she’d left behind, and to tell the rest of the cast about her new bundle of joy. She seemed happy enough as Roby walked her out to her car during the break everyone else was given to pull it together. Michelle truly was a gem of a co-star, and she would be missed.
“So, you’re moving to Texas?”
“I’m moving to Texas. It’s what’s best, and it’s time I grew up. I’m never going to be the big time Broadway star I dreamed about when I was a little girl, but I certainly made it further in my career than a lot of the folks I went to school with back home. I made a difference, and I won't be disappointed in that.”
Music played from the car’s open windows, and the wind carried the song back to Robyn’s ears as she reentered the building. Yeah, she seemed happy enough, but so had Robyn when she walked away from her dreams to pursue the normalcy everyone desired for her. She certainly hoped things turned out better for Michelle.
“So, I wanted to wait for Michelle to leave before I told you that her replacement will be joining us tomorrow.” Joseph was in the middle of sharing this astounding news when she walked into the studio.
From the looks on their faces and the various murmurs, there was no doubt that they all knew exactly who Katharine Dresden was, and the reviews were definitely mixed. Joseph didn’t give them time to dwell, though. Rehearsal picked up with all of the ensemble scenes, while Roby worked with the other lead on his new rehearsal schedule that would serve as put-ins to get Katharine up to speed.
Her reputation had preceded her, and from the buzz, it seemed to Robyn that this wasn’t the first time. Bathroom and lobby chat flowed on the next break.
“I was an understudy in her last show, and when I had to go on, she refused to work with me to get me up to speed.”
“I heard she locked the last two actresses she was working with out of the dressing room. She wanted her own, and when she didn’t get it, she took it.”
“She fired the hair and makeup person during her last show, and threw a box of pins at the costume designer.”
By the time Roby found Joseph in his office, she was shaking. Slamming the door, she stood in front of it, bent at the waist, sucking in gulping breaths of air. Daughter of Satan was the mantra she kept repeating until he had her circled in his arms.
“Get it all out. Okay, breathe normally and calm down. What’s going on?”
“They’re all talking about her. Some are sharing first hand accounts, but it doesn’t even matter what’s truth or fiction. They are all equally horrible. How did she manage to keep a job? Any job?”
“She’s that good, and most of these so called stories are hearsay or fiction, at most. One thing I do know about Kat is that she doesn’t waste time getting to know anyone who can’t somehow benefit her in the future. I assure you, she didn’t befriend any of them or provide them with ammunition.”
“So, you’re telling me they’re all lying?”
“No, I’m saying take it all in with a grain of salt. You don’t get to where she is in her career—hell, where I am in mine—without a few folks willing to dish dirt and take your reputation down a few pegs. It’s the least of what I was expecting.”
He was holding her in his arms, and although the trembling had stopped, he wanted to get to the root of the problem.
“Tell me what this is really about, short stuff.”
“Now isn’t the time to make fun of me!”
“How much time left on this break?”
“Five minutes. Why?”
He picked her up and sat down on his desk chair with her in his lap. “This is why.”
“Joseph, you should put me down. What if someone walks in?”
“They wouldn’t dare, without knocking. Besides, I like holding you still on my lap. Now, talk. I thought you were doing okay with this whole Katharine is going to darken our door business.”
“That’s what’s bothering me. Clearly, everyone knows, or at the very least expects, her to be a slightly less deranged woman than Cruella De Vil.”
“Well, she never mentioned wanting a coat of cute puppy fur, but it sounds like her.”
She felt the rumbles of his laughter through her entire body, and try as she might, she couldn’t resist the contagious mirth and joined in. “Stop teasing me. I know I’m being a little over the top crazy, but the prospect of being driven mad over the next eight weeks has me feeling exactly that way.”
“Come on. Up you go. You, my darling little bit, will be just fine, as long as you don’t let her get to you. Now get going, and I’m right behind you.”
He was a mighty bit hands-on when no one was looking, Robyn thought as she rubbed her left butt cheek. The only problem was, when it came to really getting his hands on her, he backed off like she was covered in poison oak. The frustration was getting physical as well as mental. She was experiencing the charms of the cold shower far too frequently.
When they left the theater that night, they shared a delicious meal of pasta arrabiata (they both loved it spicy) and too much garlic bread, all washed down with a fantastic bottle of Chianti that delivered on Joseph’s rave review that it would be life changing. Dropping her off at her door, Joseph said his good nights without going inside. They didn’t battle about much, but his strict zero-sex policy while they worked on this show was a repeated sore subject. Every time the sore healed, a little something would happen, and it was like ripping off the Band-Aid once again. Closing the door on him was the most painful pull.
There were a few nights a week, when they needed to work late, that he’d come to her place, and she would eventually fall asleep cuddled in his arms on her couch. If they worked at his home, which really was a home compared to her tiny apartment, he never wanted her to make the drive from Cave Creek to the east valley that late, so she’d camp out in his guest room. Being left to her own devices at home, and at a time that could be considered extremely early for her, Robyn opted for more wine and a bubble bath.
An early night home without a little pampering was practically a crime against humanity. She started undressing from the front door through her living room, and on to the bedroom side of the bathroom door. Sure, eventually she would need to pick up all of her discarded clothing, but the red wine had her feeling naughty, and she wanted to be naked as quickly as possible. The room quickly filled with the scent of jasmine and vanilla. She dropped in some oil and an overly generous amount of bubbles. Feeling warm on the inside from the wine, Roby meandered around her room with comfort and ease because she wasn’t worried about running into awkward images of her naked self. Roaming around sans clothing was natural and fun for her, but she rarely wanted to see bad naked. Opening drawers, bending over, and squatting were not good glimpses to catch, and she avoided them at all cost. She had a mirror in her entryway to give a final check on the way out the door, and the one over her sink in the bathroom, but that was it. Putting in her iPod and cranking up the music, she decided more wine would make things even better. Large glass in hand, she slipped into the soothing fragrant water and slid down just shy of full head submerging.
Closing her eyes, she allowed her body to relax completely, and indulged in her current fantasy.
As his large hands came up over her shoulders, she settled into the massage he was giving her. Lying back slightly, she was able to rest her head against his thigh.
“This tub is heavenly. No matter where we ever live I want to take this with us.”
“You know I don’t like it when you’re in here drinking.”
“Shh. Don’t ruin it with talk of rules.”
“Such a smart mouth.”
“One
you love.”
“All day every day, my girl.”
“Where are those hands?” Her sigh was deep as the double sized mitts he considered hands reached over to rub the tops of both breasts. The water he scooped and let drizzle down her front was silky from the oil she always used. “Don’t be a tease. Get in here with me.”
“I’m here to hurry you along, make sure you don’t drown, and get you out here with me.”
He leaned over to nibble on her ear as he took his frontal assault to the round under curve of her breast and up to nipples that met the pads of his fingertips in rock hard readiness.
“That’s not the way to get me out. Why would I want this to stop?”
“Sit up.” Leaning forward Robyn enjoyed his trailing hands that soaped, massaged, and caressed her from the nape of her neck to the dip in her back that met the start of the shapely rear end.
“This isn’t like any bath I’ve ever gotten.”
“And I better be the only one giving this kind from here on. Rest back.”
He moved to the side of the bath and dipped his long arms deep under the bubbles. The luxurious rubbing continued from the tops of her thighs to the tips of her toes. As he ran his palms along the base of her feet, she felt giggles bubbling up in her in childlike fashion.
“Don’t keep doing it. It tickles, Joseph.”
Running his dominant hand along the inside of her leg, he said, “Come, now. Make room for me.”
Robyn slid down and opened as wide as the antique tub allowed, and did her own massaging, rubbing her hand up and down his much hairier arm. She allowed herself to fully indulge in the sensations of feeling the hairs tickle the inside of her palm. He was smooth and rough at the same time, and moments like these she could get lost in their connection. As his right hand moved forward in singular pursuit, his left ran across her belly, and back and forth between her full and now heaving breasts. His touch was light, and helped to create a wave of water that rolled against her—
Taking the Stage Page 7