Without You I Have Nothing

by J A Scooter

  “You have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9. No thanks, say nothing.” Peter held his hand up as the Commander tried to interrupt. Peter handed him a card with the details and pushed him out the office as if afraid he had already said too much.

  Rehearsals were finalized and opening night was on them and Peter took up the challenge with his usual strength, storming onto the stage and gaining the attention of the audience immediately.

  Boos, foot stamping and shouts greeted his every word but his voice boomed over the noise so the audience did not miss a single word. His malevolence and crude licking of lips as he glowered across the stage at the cool, distant, innocent heroine

  His growl, “A tasty morsel” was met with howls of derision and thunderous boos.

  The audience went mad and the cast froze, not moving until the noise abated. Only then did Peter stride across the stage to sweep Jennifer into his arms - and the audience exploded.

  Jennifer struggled, her lips remained firmly closed and she refused to look Peter in the eye.

  When the villain lay mortally wounded, Jennifer sedately picked her way across the stage and gave him a hefty kick. Again, the audience went crazy. No boos, but loud cheering, clapping, and cries of 'encore, more, bravo, more, more' split the air as if demanding that she kick the villain again.

  The stage crew lowered the curtain and Peter formally congratulated Jennifer for her performance, but she was too busy chatting with the rest of the cast to do more than nod.

  Work and performances filled the following days. Nothing changed.

  Jennifer played the part of the heroine to perfection while Peter stormed about the stage muttering curses and plotting the success of his dastardly deeds.

  Saturday night was the final night and as it approached, Peter seemed to undergo a change.

  Tired of Jennifer’s kicks each night, tired of Jennifer’s coldness, furious at the treatment meted out to him over what had been a very silly harmless bet, he rang the director.

  They argued furiously but Peter would not back down to accept the director’s demands.

  That evening it was almost curtain time when the director called the cast onto the stage.

  Glaring balefully at Jennifer, he delivered an announcement. “Peter will not be the villain tonight. He rang me early today and explained that the situation between the heroine and the villain had deteriorated to such an extent he refused to be part of the play tonight.

  “He apologizes to you all. It was not his choice to spoil the evening and the party. I have secured a stand-in and I hope he is sober enough to play the part. Everybody do your best, I'm sure the stand-in will be on time for his first entrance. Enjoy tonight and the party.”

  Jennifer was ashen. Her anger over the 'bet' gone, dispelled by the feeling of empty panic that replaced it. She could not go on without Peter there, she would never adapt so suddenly to a different actor. She needed Peter as the villain.

  The rising curtain interrupted her thoughts.

  Just as in the previous performances, her presence on the stage brought whistles and cheers but then there was a sudden hush and for the first time in any performance, the audience sat quietly.

  No cheers, no boos just silence. Jennifer turned to recoil in horror.

  The villain, the stand-in, had taken to the stage - a bent, filthy, misshapen caricature of a man, his hunchback, the terrible dragging of his feet and his filth turned her white. His grey hair was long, lank and dirty and as he spoke dribble rolled from the corners of his mouth.

  Jennifer felt sick knowing what was to come.

  “A tasty morsel...” snarled this vile creature and a female voice rang out from the audience.

  “Oh noooooo!”

  The audience went mad as this filthy cripple dragged one misshapen leg after the other to shoot his over-long arms around the heroine in order to bend her back as croaking, he drooled, “Come, a kiss to seal the bargain!”

  The audience exploded and Jennifer was frantic.

  She noticed his misshapen teeth and the gaps in his rotten molars. Looking into his eyes, she was horrified to see - not Peter’s loving, blue - but the red, bloodshot eyes of an alcoholic.

  Jennifer fought and struggled, she moaned and shrieked, but still that mouth came closer and closer. She tried screaming even louder but the mouth closed on hers and his tongue dived deep into her mouth. It seemed to rape her mouth as the kiss continued and she was horrified at the passion that the lips and tongue were transmitting.

  Unable to struggle any further, she bit his tongue and bit hard.

  Roaring in agony, the villain threw her to the stage, and spitting blood from the capsule concealed in his cheek, and with more blood streaming from his mouth he continued muttering his lines, much to delight of the audience who cheered the heroine as she clambered to her feet.

  “Serve the bastard right,” was one woman’s shout.

  The villain glared across the footlights at the audience. Then to emphasize Jennifer’s mortification and horror he shuffled quickly once more to snatch the heroine into his arms and kiss her again.

  Jennifer couldn’t struggle any harder as he again put his lips to hers. He used no tongue this time but he forced her lips open, and he seemed to suck her whole being into his mouth. Then as if tiring of the kiss, he stormed off stage.

  The hisses and boos of the audience followed him.

  The hero shot the villain and the heroine, as in previous performances, advanced to kick him - this time with much more than vengeance on her mind. Alas, her utter loathing of this creature had given her a confidence that reduced her awareness of what was actually happening, and she didn’t see the ghastly hand shoot out to grab her ankle and pull her down to the level of the dying villain. The audience heard his loud snarl.

  “A final kiss my tasty...”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he expired as he kissed her. It took three cast members to free her and the audience almost rioted.

  As usual, the cast took the curtain calls over the body of the dead villain and the cast trooped off to the party in the green room.

  Only then, did the villain rise and sighing sadly, slowly limped his way to the men’s dressing room dripping blood to mark his passage. He carefully removed the contact lenses and the lank grey hair had gone when there was a knock on the door.

  The director walked in, pleased but muttering angrily.

  “You really are an infuriating bastard, Peter. You almost caused a riot tonight and that was before the show started. I do wish you and Jennifer could see the trees in the forest. It would make life so much easier for all of us.

  “You can’t see how much she cares for you and she can’t see how much you love her. Now get yourself respectable and come on down to the party.”

  “I’ll finish getting cleaned up and then I’ll just go. No party for me.” Peter was so sad that the director just shrugged, turned and left.

  Barely had Peter finished dressing and cleaning his face of makeup when the cast burst through the door and dragged him out to the party. He looked about but could see no Jennifer. His heart sank.

  The director held court. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must introduce the stand-in for the villain tonight. No-one guessed that Peter had decided to push the villain’s part even further tonight and, yes, the villain tonight in all his hideousness was Peter.”

  Seeing Jennifer’s livid face appear from amidst the crowd, he continued.

  “I'm sorry for not informing you prior to the open curtain but you all acted brilliantly - although I am afraid Peter did go a bit overboard at times.”

  Furious at Peter’s success at hoodwinking her, Jennifer marched up to him and before the startled cast could react, hauled back and slapped his face not once but twice.

  Peter’s eyes changed from a smiling blue to a blood red and he seemed to grow in stature as his anger exploded within him. His change in mood was such that she retreated, unwilling to risk his ire any further.

 
“You bastard,” she spat her words at him. “You allowed me to believe that creature was a stand-in. How could you?” She turned away with tears in her eyes.

  The party sounds died at this interchange between the two leads.

  Trying to break the tension, Ted and Bob who had brought Karen and Ruth to the party celebrating the end of a successful show, stepped in.

  “I really couldn’t recognize you,” admitted Karen as she clung to Peter’s arm. “Your voice, your walk and that terrible drooling and spitting. Even your eyes were different. How revolting. You didn’t look evil - you were evil!”

  Ruth joined in.

  “I don’t know how you could bear to have him kiss you.” Ruth dragged a reluctant Jennifer back into the group.

  “I don’t know either.” Jennifer stared through Peter and he knew she wasn’t thinking only of the play.

  Ruth giggled. “Your eyes said so much more than the words when you looked across at Jennifer and said 'a tasty morsel'. Everyone hated you, Peter. Heavens, as the hunchback approached Jennifer I shouted louder than the rest. You looked positively revolting. What a villain you are!”

  “When Jennifer bit you and you reeled away bleeding so profusely from the mouth I think I cheered louder than anyone,” Karen enthused.

  Jennifer glared at Peter, adding her piece. “I suppose you didn’t have to act all that much. No wonder you got the part. Type casting I suppose.”

  Peter tried to break the tension between them.

  “If I was good, it was only because you were perfect. You made it so easy. Jennifer, any time you want to...”

  It was useless continuing - she had walked away to join another group where her normal vivacity and liveliness surfaced. The others didn’t notice her departure as they discussed the play and accepted more cast members into the conversation.

  Peter went nowhere for the rest of the weekend. Only his music drew him. Nothing else could wipe Jennifer from his soul. Everywhere he looked, he could see her and he could smell her perfume. She had permeated every corner of his life.

  On Monday, he was glad to work - the noise, dust and smell of welding and spray painting helped clear his mind. Every day was busy and he didn’t notice the time passing.

  Week followed week. It was work only that kept Peter sane - work and music - with seemingly endless trips to Bathurst delivering vehicles for the latest contract, followed by more work. Peter drove himself hard.

  “Where have you been?” Bob called in to inspect the repairs on a customer’s car. He was worried. “You haven’t been in for a drink for weeks since the play and you’ve not been to tennis either. We’ve all missed you.”

  He laughed at his own joke as he continued.

  “Now tell me you’ve been working.”

  “I have been.” Emotionless, Peter was insistent as the words flowed easily.

  “There’s wages to pay and I’ve just put on two young female apprentices and you keep well clear of them. They are mere children.”

  Peter’s stance warned Bob that his behavior around the new apprentices would need to be exemplary. “That’s all I seem to do now - work.”

  “You missed out on some fun.” Bob’s eyes twinkled as he outlined the past weekend’s doings. “Are you coming this Friday? Everyone wants to see if you're still alive.”

  “Everyone?” Peter’s hopes rose.

  “Ted, Karen, Ruth. The new group.”

  “Have you seen Jennifer?”

  “The Ice Maiden?” He guffawed. “You should have seen that 'Ice' melt when I...” Pausing, he stared into Peter’s face trying to judge his reaction.

  “You did what?” Peter almost shrieked his mind whirling in confusion. ‘No, no not Jennifer, not that.’ The idea burnt into his soul and he could feel his hatred and anger beginning to control him.

  “Well,” for the first time Bob seemed at a loss for words, “I accidentally mentioned our bet.”

  Peter looked shocked but at the same time, he heaved a sigh of relief.

  “She said nothing, but I thought she was going to explode. I’ve never seen such anger in a woman. That is one woman I’d like to stir. She’d be a tigress if...”

  “Lay off,” Peter was furious. Talking this way of Jennifer was more than he could stand.

  “Keep that for Ted. He loves to hear the hows, the whens and the whys.” Peter’s voice rose to a shout. “I'm not interested”

  “Steady on.” Bob completely misconstrued Peter’s outrage. “You’ve been working too hard. Give it away.”

  He began organizing Peter’s life. “If you're not at the bar on Friday night, Ted and I’ll come to drag you off - paint, grease, overalls and all.”

  Bob knew he was pushing Peter’s limits. He watched to see if Peter would accept his organization and, hearing nothing but ominous silence, he decided he’d better change the topic before something dangerous happened.

  “Hey, there’s Mrs. Williams. She’s just what the doctor ordered. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

  Preening himself, he dashed out. “See you Friday.”

  Peter could only smirk as he watched.

  Seeing Bob approaching, Susie turned away. Undeterred, he took her arm but she quickly snatched herself out of his grasp. Bob could see his charm was having no effect. Repeatedly she shook her head until tiring of his overtures she left.

  “Win some, lose some.” Bob started his car. “Don’t know what’s got into her. Hubbie must be home.”

  Peter smiled - he wasn’t going to tell Bob the facts.

  “Be there Friday night.”

  The bar was just as noisy, smoky and dim as usual. Nothing had changed.

  “Welcome back, stranger.” Ted slapped Peter’s back and ordered another round of drinks. “Help me carry these.”

  Six drinks - one tomato juice - should have made Peter suspicious. Jennifer had been drinking tomato juice that first night.

  Like a pet poodle on a leash, Peter followed mindlessly to the furthest table in the lounge.

  “Where have you been?” Ruth seemed politely interested.

  “You're as pale as ghost,” Karen shrieked in that affected, little girlish voice she often assumed. “Have you been locked up in a cave?”

  Then she turned to Bob to commandeer his attention.

  Jennifer said nothing. She stared through Peter as if he didn’t exist.

  It hurt. Holding her in his arms waltzing to Strauss had been heaven. This was hell.

  “Hello,” Jennifer’s voice was cold and emotionless.

  There was nothing to keep Peter here in the group. His eyes moistened and he realized he was on the point of breaking. It would take all his self-control to remain, self-control he did not have.

  “Thanks for the beer, Ted. I owe you one.” Peter threw the beer down his throat, turned on his heels and made his way towards the exit, well aware of the puzzled looks from both Bob and Ted.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing?” Bob caught Peter at the door and grabbing his shoulder, wheeled him around to stand face-to-face. “We’ve drunk together for years and you’ve never done that with a beer before.”

  Hands on hips he cornered Peter against the doorway. “What the hell’s got into you?” Bob was furious.

  “You! That’s bloody what.” This time Bob would not misconstrue Peter’s bitterness. “You and your bloody great mouth.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Bob really did not know.

  “You had to scream to the world about our bet.” Peter’s hatred made Bob wince. “I ought to...” Peter closed his fist but customers bursting through the door separated them.

  Bob bounced back.

  “I'm sorry I opened my mouth to Jennifer but let’s not fight over her. We’ve been friends too long.”

  Pausing he waited but Peter said nothing. “I'm sorry for stepping out of line. I only asked her if the pair of you had a date. She seemed reluctant to discuss you although she had pictures of you spread all over her desk. Strang
e that.”

  His eyes wandered to the ceiling as if seeking an answer there. “She didn’t want to talk at all so I merely said 'Good, then Peter’s lost his bet' and left.

  “Ted told me she rang him, must have got his number from Ruth. Before he knew it, she had the facts from him. Sorry. Neither of us meant to hurt you.”

  Peter crumpled, all the fire gone. Just an empty shell remained.

  “Come on back.” With a kindly gesture, Bob took his friend’s arm and led Peter back to the bar. “A stiff whiskey’s what you need.”

  Patiently, he talked quietly as Peter downed not one, not two but three whiskeys in quick succession.

  Peter’s knees knocked. Those drinks raced to his brain.

  The walk back to Jennifer seemed endless and Peter wanted it to last so that his fuddled brain could clear. He would need all his faculties if he were to get through the next few minutes.

  “You’ve brought him back. Goody.” Karen clapped her hands like the silly little school girl she was. “Bob, you scattered so many chairs racing after Peter the barman thought there was a brawl.”

  She began to laugh, “I thought Peter was a great grizzly bear but you bounced out like a fighting koala.”

  Even Peter laughed but he knew his laugh didn’t sound right.

  “What did you do to him, Bob? You’ve only been gone five minutes but by Peter’s look he’s had his head in a brewer’s vat.” Ted looked concerned.

  Peter knew that he had difficulty focusing but he didn’t realize the others knew. Ruth’s stare told him those whiskeys had been just what he didn’t need. Slumped over the table, his chin propped in his hands, Peter was beyond caring how Jennifer saw all this.

  Through a haze, Peter could hear Ted’s voice coming from the far end of a tunnel.

  “What did you do, Bob? He’s almost out cold.”

  “I gave him a couple of whiskeys but he insisted on having a third.” Bob was defensive. “He needed them. He’s been working so much and he seemed so down...”

  “You fool. You bloody great fool!” Ted’s retort cut into Peter’s brain.

  “You know he can’t drink. Two beers and he’s drunk, three and he’s sick. Come on, girls, we’d better get him out of here. Christ - sorry girls - he’s had a bad time that he, of all people, really doesn’t deserve.”