I kicked Darby under the table for obviously telling Johnny about my man troubles, but I laughed at his earnestness, “I’m having a very good time, and I’m pretty sure my man troubles are over.”
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” he appeared to be shocked, “I hear you’re both being stalked by Marlon Brando!” he practically whispered the name.
I kicked Darby under the table again. “Well, I’ve named him Skinny Guy, but his face does kind of remind me of a young Marlon Brando.”
“Then Marlon Brando it is!” he exclaimed. “Oh!” he put his hand up to his mouth and looked even more shocked. He turned to Darby, “You don’t suppose he’s one of your past lovers do you?”
Darby laughed. He was obviously enjoying Johnny’s very effective drama queen.
I leaned over and told Johnny with my eyes wide, “That’s what I said.”
Darby laughed but put his hands out, one toward me and one toward Johnny, and said, “Look, both of you. I’m positive I’ve never dated a skinny guy or Marlon Brando.” He was effective at putting an end to the topic.
We all settled back into our seats and allowed the evening to unfold. Dinner was fantastic. The sherry and Dijon mustard in the herb sauce for my lobster was excellent. Everyone appeared to be delighted with their dinner choices, and there would be no leftovers from this group. I could tell Johnny and Darby were enjoying their conversation. I struck up my own conversation with Vera, the girl seated next to me.
“How did you girls ever end up with a showgirl routine?” I asked her.
Vera smiled and said, “All six of us were enrolled in cosmetology school in Minnesota. Most people don’t know how expensive a good cosmetology school can be, and I needed some extra money. There was a local dance contest sponsored by a radio station in Minneapolis, so I put an ad on the school bulletin board for girls who wanted to help put together a routine and enter the contest with me. The prize was $15,000. These are the girls I chose,” she said as she waved her hand to the table of girls.
“That’s so cool,” I told her. I was truly impressed. “Did you win?”
“No, we didn’t,” she said laughing. “But we were good. A talent scout was in the audience and approached us afterward to represent us.”
“So you signed with him?” I asked.
“No.” Vera laughed again. “We didn’t. We were in school and didn’t think it was a good idea to become beauty school dropouts. But we did enjoy dancing together, and having the scout want to represent us gave us the confidence we needed to put more routines together. Sasha there,” she pointed two seats down to a stunning brunette, “put together the showgirl routine. Bunny over there,” she pointed across the table to a petite blonde who gave us a little wave, “booked us for a dental convention with the Vegas routine. They paid us $5,000.”
“You’re kidding!” I exclaimed, doubly impressed.
“We were shocked,” Vera said. “We started making more money on the weekends than what we were expecting to make in a week of working in a salon after graduating from beauty school. So,” she shrugged her shoulders, “we became beauty school dropouts after all.”
“Vera, that’s a wonderful story,” I told her. “You were all so brave to take a risk and venture out into a new career.”
“We make a good living, we travel all over the country, and we meet a lot of really nice people,” she said looking Johnny’s way.
“That’s what Darby says,” I told her. “He likes to travel and meet new people.” I picked up my purse and said, “Vera, please excuse me. The show is going to start soon, and I want to make a quick trip to the restroom.”
I stood up and turned around to make my way between the tables and back to the main foyer where the restrooms were located. I was near to the doorway when I froze in my tracks. Skinny Guy was standing in the doorway. He appeared to be scanning the room and would soon see me. I quickly turned around, and in a slightly hunched over manner, made my way back to our table.
“Darby! Darby!” I sat down and started pulling at his arm to get his attention. “Skinny Guy is here!”
“What?” Johnny yelped, “Marlon Brando is here? Oh dear,” he waved his hands excitedly in front of his face and started looking around the room.
“Are you sure?” Darby asked frowning.
“Yes, I’m positive,” I said. “Don’t turn around, but I saw him standing in the doorway. He was acting like he was looking for somebody.”
“We have to get you guys out of here,” said Johnny. “Let’s come up with a plan. Girls!” he snapped his fingers and addressed the table. “We must escort Darby and Susan out of here. Shall we revisit the conga line back to the dressing room? Darby and Susan can duck walk beside us so Marlon Brando can’t see them.”
I could see the girls looking at each other with puzzled looks, and some were asking, “Marlon Brando?”
“We have a stalker,” I told them. I looked at Darby and said, “I’m not duck walking.”
He laughed. “You don’t have to. We’ll work it out.”
He held my arm as we half stood up and walked around the table in a hunched position. The girls stood to block us from the view of the doorway. Johnny stood up and announced in a loud voice, “Ladies and gentlemen … I hope you have enjoyed your dinner this evening. The show will be starting soon. These lovely ladies are going to escort me to my dressing room, and I will be dancing with fire for you shortly.” He waved his hands in the air to all sections of the dining room and took his place behind Vera with his hands on her waist.
The room erupted into applause, the conga line was once again moving, and I was practically duck walking beside them! We were halfway to the door when my heel caught on the hem of my dress, and I pitched forward. Darby had a solid grip on my arm and kept me from pitching to the floor. He steadied me, and we kept moving forward. “I hate duck walking,” I hissed at him behind me.
“We’re almost there,” he managed to say. He could barely talk he was laughing so hard. “Just a couple more steps.”
Bunny was at the head of the line. As soon as she opened the door, Darby and I bolted through it and around the corner. Johnny was throwing kisses to the crowd as the girls headed back to the table to watch the show.
He came through the doorway and shut the door behind him. “I think I saw Marlon Brando!” he said excitedly. “He has long, curly hair!”
“Yes, he does!” I said mimicking his excitement. “Where did you see him?”
“He was watching from the opposite side of the room,” Johnny said stepping in front of us. “Come with me. You can hide out in our dressing room.”
We hurried to the end of the hallway and into the small dressing room. To the left was a wall of mirrors with bright round lights around them. Several director’s chairs were facing the mirrors. Opposite the mirrors were two sofas and two clothing racks. One rack was full of street clothes from the other dancers while the second rack had one lone costume hanging on it. At the end of the room was a closet overflowing with colorful costumes adorned with grasses and feathers. The floor of the closet was littered with numerous pairs of shoes.
Johnny looked out the door then turned to us and said, “You can wait here until we’re sure he’s gone. I have the girls watching the dining room for any suspicious activity.” He was now talking in his normal voice that I’d only caught bits of earlier when he was chatting with Darby at dinner. His voice was slightly deep, even sexy. He had short, jet black hair, and he was tanned, but he seemed a little soft around the middle for a dancer. Maybe he enjoyed eating as much as he enjoyed dancing. He was attractive, but most of his attraction was in his big personality.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he said as he pointed to one of the sofas. “I have to get ready for the show. Everyone else is already dressed and waiting in the staging area. I’ll keep looking out the door for Marlon Brando.” He opened the door a crack to take another peek.
Darby and I sat down. I checked over my dress and saw my he
el had ripped the hem at the back of the dress. Crap! My favorite sundress, and it had cost a week of working at the racquetball club. Further inspection showed the heel had only pulled the stitching, and the material itself wasn’t torn. It could be repaired, so I was relieved, but I still hated duck walking!
I didn’t realize it, but while I was checking my dress, Johnny was undressing. He was in the process of taking off his trousers when I looked up from my hem. I felt myself turn beet red and turned my head away so he could have some privacy, but not before I saw he was wearing a chartreuse thong.
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he said when he saw me turned away from him. “We’re so used to rushing and changing in front of everyone and anyone, I never gave it a thought you might be uncomfortable.”
Darby was chuckling at my unease. I wanted to kick him again.
Johnny finished putting on his grass leggings and peeked out the door again. Suddenly, he was back in full drama queen mode, “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!” he started wailing. He was half jumping, half flailing with his grasses and feathers flying around with him, “It’s Marlon Brando, and he’s coming this way. Quick, hide!”
Darby and I both jumped up at the same time. Johnny practically tackled Darby as he shoved him into me with the forward momentum propelling us into the closet. Johnny slammed the doors shut behind us.
I was face-first in the closet with Darby behind me. He had his hands on my waist attempting to steady me as I tried to find my footing around the jumbled pairs of shoes. “Why are these shoes in here anyway?” I whispered. “They don’t even look like they belong to any of the costumes.”
“Shhh,” Darby cautioned me.
I managed to get turned around and on sound footing. Darby and I were nose to nose. The closet’s wooden doors met and closed in the center. There were wood slats for ventilation, and a few were off kilter. We could just barely see some of the dressing room without putting our faces close to the doors, but we did see Skinny Guy walk into the room. I couldn’t hold back a small gasp, and a feather was partially sucked into my mouth. Darby instantly clapped his hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound. My eyes went wide. I had a feather in my mouth, and I wanted to bite Darby’s hand so he would let go, but fear kept me perfectly still and quiet.
Johnny was applying his makeup, but kept his drama queen act going strong, “Hi there,” he said to Skinny Guy. “Who are you? You know, you shouldn’t be back here. Are you looking for Jacqueline? She said some new talent might be coming in.”
“Yeah,” Skinny Guy said pausing to look around. “Yeah, I’m looking for Jacqueline.”
“Well, honey, she won’t be back until tomorrow. You should come back then. Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like a young Marlon Brando?” Darby tightened his grip on my mouth. “You have a face for the stage. You should do some acting. Have you ever done any theater work before?”
“Maybe,” said Skinny Guy warily.
“Well, I’ll put in a good word for you with Jacqueline. Give me your name, and I’ll tell her you were here.” Good for Johnny for trying to get his name.
“No, that’s ok,” Skinny Guy said taking another look around. “I’ll stop back tomorrow.” He turned and walked out the door.
We all stood still for a few minutes, listening, waiting to see if he would come back. Johnny peeked out the door again.
Darby finally removed his hand, and I was practically spitting in his face trying to get the feather out of my mouth. Johnny opened the closet doors so fast, I lost my balance, stepped on jumbled shoes, and pitched out of the closet head first and onto the floor.
“Oh, sweetie,” Johnny said sounding shocked. “What a terrible bruise you’ve got there on your leg. How did you get that?”
Darby helped me up. “Darby!” I screeched at him. “I had a feather in my mouth. Why did you put your hand over my mouth?” I was frustrated and my knees hurt. They would probably have rug burns on them from the fall.
“I was afraid you would cough or make a noise - or spit all over me trying to get the feather out!” he said with his own raised voice. It was obvious he was frustrated, too.
Johnny looked at me with a puzzled expression and asked, “Why in the world did you put a feather in your mouth?”
Darby and I stood staring at each other. The absurdity of the moment washed over us, and we burst out laughing.
“Johnny, we’re going to have to leave,” Darby told him. “I’m sorry we’re going to miss your show, but neither of us has any idea why this guy is stalking me, and I since we know he’s here, we’d better not stick around.”
“I understand,” he said. “I’ll call you later tonight, and maybe we can make plans for tomorrow. I’ll show you the back way out of the building.” Johnny gave both of us air kisses and hugs, and we said our goodbyes.
We made our way around the back of the building to the valet stand and picked the car up there. Darby took the ramp onto I-275 south for the drive back to St. Petersburg.
“Did you at least have a little bit of fun tonight?” he asked me.
“I actually had a very good time,” I said and smiled at him. “And the girls were nice, too. Did you know they’re beauty school dropouts?”
“Yep,” he nodded. “I found out at the pool yesterday. Those are some smart women, and they’ve really marketed themselves well. They’re part of a big musical show up in Toronto next weekend. I can’t get over how much they get around.” He shook his head in wonderment. He glanced over at me, paused, and asked the question that was uppermost on his mind, “What did you think of Johnny?”
“Oh my gosh! You’re right, he’s a real character,” I said. “But I can see there’s more to him than what he likes to show to the public. It’s obvious he’s a showman and loves a theatrical environment, but I’m guessing there’s a quieter, more sensitive side to him, too.”
“There is,” he said. “And I like him a lot, but there aren’t any real sparks there. At least not yet. Tomorrow is our last day here, so I’m going to see him again and maybe get a better feel for what we’re going to do.”
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“Darby?” I said breaking the silence. “We have to talk about this. What did you make of Skinny Guy being there tonight?”
“I don’t know, Susan,” he said. “It was unsettling. I’m sorry I yelled at you in the dressing room.”
“I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you, too. It was just too much. The duck walking, ripping my dress, the feather, my knees – my poor knees,” I whined. “And then seeing Skinny Guy. I was kind of over the edge.”
“You know,” Darby said looking over at me, “he does kind of look like a young Marlon Brando.”
I punched him lightly on the arm, but couldn’t help smiling.
We were quiet for the rest of the drive back to the hotel, but it was a different quiet than on the way over. We were both more nervous now about Skinny Guy than we had been before. He had followed Darby a long way tonight, and we still weren’t any closer to finding out why.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
2:00 A.M.
I was tossing and turning and couldn’t sleep. It had been an eventful evening, and I was too amped up with too many thoughts rolling around in my head. I tried to push them aside and think of something more soothing and relaxing. I thought about Mick. I missed him so much. I hated being homesick, and I felt like a child again counting the days until I could go home. At least it was only one more day. Or two more sleeps was how I counted when I was little. Yeah, right. If only I could go to sleep.
I tried to think about Mick again, and remembered a picnic we had taken in the city park. It started out quite romantically. We held hands and walked along the creek that snaked its way through the park. I love lilacs, and there was a huge bank of the bushes near a footbridge crossing the creek. As we walked across the bridge, the smell of the lilacs was intense. I love when my senses are heightened, and the strong, pleasant odor of the flowers gave m
e a surge of euphoria. I breathed in deeply and made a satisfying “uhm” sound. Mick was sharply aware of my delight. He led us off the path and turned me to face him with my back against a tree. He leaned in and kissed me, gently at first, but then harder and with longing. I was overwhelmed by my feelings for him and the heat that was surging through my body. I returned the passionate kiss. The moment was perfect, but I was grateful we were in a public park and couldn’t succumb to the emotions that were going to put us in jail if we gave in to them right there. He took me by the hand again, and we made our way back to our picnic spot. Everything about the day had been perfect. I settled onto our blanket while Mick unpacked our lunch. I had made fabulous chicken salad sandwiches with a hint of lemon, no bread crusts, and rolled the edges in crushed cashews. They were sooo good. Who knew bees would be attracted to chicken? So many bees!
Ok, that was a good memory with a bad ending. This wasn’t helping me to sleep. I tried to think about our conversation yesterday. He missed me, and wanted to see me. That was good. He told me about his marriage. What did his wife look like? Ooh, what did his wife look like? I could find out if I really wanted to. He said she was involved in Community Theater over in Marshall. I bet there was a picture of her there. Did I really want to see what she looked like?
Yes, I did.
I hopped out of bed, turned on the lights, and quickly changed into a t-shirt and jeans. I left my room and took the elevator to the lobby.
I didn’t recognize the night clerk, and he didn’t say anything to me as I walked across the room to the small media center. I sat down at a computer and brought up Google.
The Marshall Community Center had a nice website. They were currently showing Suessical the Musical. I wondered if they would be singing about green eggs and ham, or feet, or Thing One and Thing Two. I smiled. I loved Dr. Seuss as a child, and thought this would be a fun production. I didn’t see any reference to Jenny Raines. I looked at past productions and found her name referenced in Driving Miss Daisy. I clicked on the cast picture and found her name right away. She was seated in the center of the first row. I was surprised. She was quite nondescript. There wasn’t anything that made her stand out. She wasn’t overly attractive, but she wasn’t unattractive either. She looked like a nice person. I didn’t know why I thought this was a good idea. It seemed like a terrible invasion of Mick’s privacy.
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