Body on the Stage

by Bev Robitai

  “He didn’t even try to avoid me,” Ricky insisted, “even though the lights are on and he could see me perfectly well.” He pushed Warwick in the chest, sending him back a step. There was a momentary hush and then an explosion of rage – but from Mark.

  “Will you just shut UP!” he shouted, grabbing Ricky by the shoulders and shaking him violently. “You never stop! Whine whine whine…well I’ve had enough!” He shoved him so hard that Ricky sprawled backwards onto the stage, looking up white-faced as Mark stormed out of the theatre.

  There was a stunned silence.

  Adam raised an eyebrow. “Well, that was an interesting performance. Clearly there’s something going on that requires investigation. But let’s not lose focus here. We have limited rehearsal time before we open and I don’t intend to be derailed. I’ll get to the bottom of any disputes later, but for now, can we run through the rest of the individual routines, please? We don’t need Mark for those. Ricky, get in position ready for your music cue.”

  Ricky scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed, and obeyed without question. Adam returned to his seat and gave the soundman a wave. The second track blared out and Ricky ran on, moving through his routine quickly and carefully, but the previous light-hearted atmosphere had evaporated and the stand-in audience was quiet and subdued.

  Once Adam had declared the rehearsal to be over, Dennis hurried to speak to Cathy.

  “Hi, did you see that? Mark really lost it, didn’t he? That can’t be normal behaviour, surely, not unless there’s something serious bugging him. I reckon Vincenzo really must have feeding him steroids and that’s why he’s exploding with rage at every little thing.”

  “Dennis, even if you’re right, what can we do about it?” she said helplessly. “The damage is done now.”

  “Surely once they stop taking the stuff, the effects will wear off, won’t they? We just have to make sure they don’t take any more of Vincenzo’s special formula whey powder.”

  Cathy thought for a moment. “I suppose I could do a sort of product recall. Take back all their powder and offer them the proper stuff as a replacement. That’ll cost a bundle,” she said grimly. Then she turned horrified eyes on him. “What if there are others that have been taking it? How will I find them, and how the hell can I afford to give away even more product?”

  “Let’s just focus on who we can see has been affected for now, shall we? Get the powder back off Ricky, Mark and Warwick, get it tested, get them sorted, and then look further afield if you think we have to.”

  She nodded. “That sounds sensible. I’m so glad you’re here to help me through all this. Your calm advice is exactly what I need. Thank you.” She tapped a finger against her lips, thinking. “Actually, I may need a little more than just advice.”

  “Ye-es?” he said cautiously.

  “I don’t know how those three will react when I ask them to do the powder swap. Would you help me with breaking it to them?”

  Dennis thought about the violent scenes he’d just witnessed with three powerful men at each others’ throats, lashing out with fists and feet. “Of course,” he said instantly. “Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there with you.”

  “Let’s grab Warwick and Ricky now while there are plenty of people around, and perhaps we can tackle Mark later once he’s calmed down. You really are my hero, Dennis,” she smiled.

  “Yes, well,” he murmured, trying not to blush. “Of course I want to keep you safe. You’re very important to me. I just hope your hero survives this encounter intact. Who knows what those guys are capable of when they’re drugged up and full of ‘roid rage. Anything could happen.”

  They went backstage, bracing themselves for possible explosions.

  Warwick and Ricky were at opposite ends of the Green Room, both brooding darkly, nursing mugs of cold water.

  “Do we tackle them individually or together?” whispered Dennis.

  “If we can get them together, at least we only have to do it once,” murmured Cathy.

  “OK, I’ll try to get Ricky over here, and you get Warwick.”

  Between them they persuaded both guys to sit down at the same table.

  “Sorry to interrupt you,” Cathy began, “but there’s something I wanted to ask you. Could you return the protein powder Vincenzo gave you to the gym, and let me swap it for fresh product? I’ll give you a full pack for whatever you bring back. You won’t lose out, I promise.”

  “Why?” demanded Ricky.

  Cathy looked at Dennis with a tiny shrug. What could she tell them?

  “It’s just a product recall thing,” he said firmly. “We need to account for what was handed out and return it. Like she said, you won’t lose out – you’ll get more than you give back, and it’ll be newer stock.”

  “Suppose that’s all right then. When do you want it?”

  “As soon as possible please, Ricky. Drop it off the next time you come in for a workout, could you?” She turned to Warwick. “Is that all right with you, too?”

  He looked at her as if her words had barely reached him. “Yeah, whatever.

  Dennis kept a close eye on them when they turned up at the gym the following night clutching their packages of powder. They stomped up to the reception counter and thumped the bags down with bad grace. Cathy smiled sweetly, handed over brand-new sealed foil containers of fresh powder, and carefully put their offerings into a large ziplock bag which she locked away in a filing cabinet. Dennis breathed a sigh of relief the procedure had been accomplished without a cross word being spoken. He wondered how long it took for the effects of the drugs to wear off, thinking it would be really nice if the guys recovered their happy dispositions before the show opened to a real audience. It needed to be a success if only for Cathy’s financial wellbeing, and happy smiling actors would make a much better impression than angry, brooding ones. Too many women had men like that at home already and would be looking for a change when they went to the show.

  Cathy beckoned him over to the office and he felt a warm smile spread across his face.

  “That seemed to go all right,” he said. “No temper tantrums.”

  “Thank goodness! Now, I called you over because we’re due to do your nine-week check and measure session. This is where we can do the last bit of fine-tuning to make sure you get to the twelve week end point in the very best shape.” She ushered him into her office and pulled out the tape measure. “Right, shirt off please, you know the drill now.”

  He held her gaze and started doing some moves from the strip routine she’d designed for him, while pulling the bottom of his shirt free and slowly sliding it off. It was only meant as a joke, but when he saw her eyes widen and her lips part there was nothing on earth that could have stopped him from crossing the room and taking her in his arms for a passionate kiss. When they broke free, both were breathing heavily.

  “Who knew I was such a good choreographer?” she gasped. “That routine really works for you, Dennis! It certainly worked for me!”

  He kissed her again. “Here are some moves I came up with myself,” he murmured in her ear. “See what you think.”

  Their lingering clinch was interrupted by a knock from an apologetic staff member.

  “Oh! Sorry, Cathy, but can you spare a moment to talk to Detective Senior Sergeant Matherson? He’s at reception.” She disappeared as rapidly as she’d arrived. Cathy and Dennis looked at each other.

  “I wonder what he wants,” she said, frowning.

  He shrugged. “Better go and see.” Cathy went out while Dennis stayed behind for a few moments to put his shirt back on. When he joined her at the reception counter Jack’s eyebrows went up.

  “Ah, Dennis,” he said, conveying rather more meaning than Dennis was comfortable about. The man couldn’t see through walls, could he?

  “Yes?”

  Jack laughed. “Don’t look like that! I’m just practising the skills of my trade, that’s all. We’re trained to notice smudges of lipstick and inside-out clothing.” D
ennis looked down at his shirt but couldn’t see anything wrong – only realising as he met Jack’s amused gaze that he’d fallen into his simple trap. “Don’t worry,” said Jack. “I’m only here to return the sample dumbbell and to ask Cathy for a full membership list.”

  “Here you are, Jack,” Cathy pulled the pages from the printer, stapled them together, and handed them over. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Nope,” he said cheerfully, “that should just about do it, thanks. I’ll get a few beat guys to interview these people, very diplomatically of course, and that will be that.” He headed towards the stairs, throwing an airy “Get back to what you were doing,” over his shoulder with a chuckle.

  “Come on Dennis,” said Cathy, smiling. “Don’t let him throw you off your stride. It’s just the way he works. Let’s go and do your measurements.”

  He allowed himself to be towed back to the cubicle where she ran a tape measure over his body with considerably more contact than the first few times she’d done it.

  “Just look at your biceps,” she cooed. “And you’re getting a lovely flare on your lats.” She ran her hands down the edges of his back from shoulder to waist.

  “Oh, is that where the lats are? I’ve been wondering about that.”

  “Lateral dorsal muscle, aka latissimus dorsi – gives men that nice triangular shape, wide at the top and tapering down to a neat butt.” She patted his. “Just like that one. You really haven’t got too much more body fat to lose.”

  He looked down. “Just the belly,” he sighed. “It still sticks out more than I want.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s always the last bit of fat to disappear. Feel sorry for us women – we lose the fat from all the good places before our bellies finally shrink. It’s heartbreaking to watch nice rounded boobs deflate just so we can get rid of the pudgy tummy.” She handed him his exercise booklet. “I’ve given you more cardio to work off the fat, and these weights will give a final boost to your muscles. If you want to get really serious, eat your carbs early in the day, and increase your protein intake with an extra hit straight after your workout. And let me know when to schedule your ‘after photo’ session. It would be good to get it done just before the show opens when you look your very best.”

  “You’ll just do it here, won’t you? We can fit that in any old time.”

  “Oh no, your ‘after photo’ requires far more professional skill than I can muster with my little point and shoot compact camera. We use a local guy with a studio just round the corner – he’s got all the lights and backdrops to do a proper job. He shoots the body-building contests as well so he’s got lots of experience in photographing muscles to show them off to their best advantage. He’s even got weights there for you to get pumped up beforehand, and if you take some red wine with you, you’ll get the veins to stand out well.”

  Dennis shuddered. “Not really the look I’m going for, and I’m not a big fan of red wine either. But the rest of it sounds all right I suppose. It’s not for another three weeks anyway. Perhaps I’ll have my head around the idea better by then.” He shook his head, smiling. “Who would have thought I’d be discussing a photo-shoot of my body, considering how I looked when I first came in here!”

  “And that’s why I put you through the agony of taking your picture then, so you’d have a record of your starting point. It’ll also come in handy to show people you meet later who never met the fat Dennis, otherwise they won’t believe the transformation.” She tapped on her computer keyboard. “Come round here and look at this. I think it’s time for you to see it now.” She brought up his photo and Dennis groaned aloud at the vision.

  “My God, look at the size of me! What a dumpling! I look like I wanted to sink through the floor, don’t I? That is seriously unattractive, isn’t it?”

  “Now turn and look in the mirror.”

  He obeyed, studying himself in the full-length mirror on her office wall, nodding gently as his eyes roved across his reflection. “OK,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s not too bad, is it?” A slow smile lit his face. “No wonder you were so eager to get me into shape. Did you know it was going to work this well?”

  “Of course,” she said airily. “That’s my job.”

  “Ah. Just your job. Yes, of course it is.” He pulled on his shirt. “Well, I’d better go and carry on my part of the process.” He headed for the door.

  “Dennis,” she said softly.

  “Yes?” He paused.

  “You’re more than just a job to me – you know that, don’t you?” The warmth in her eyes set his heart leaping.

  Riding a tide of adrenaline, he flew through his workout lifting the heavy weights as if they were sponge. He even did a full practise of his strip routine, adding in a couple of extra moves and flourishes. He might actually get to perform it to an appreciative audience of one if things were going this well.

  As he left to head over to the theatre, he saw Mark’s girlfriend Sherry going towards Cathy’s office, looking pale and frightened. He followed her to see if there was anything he could do to help.

  “Sherry?” She shook her head mutely at him but put a hand on his arm, which he took as permission to enter the office with her.

  “Hi Sherry, what can I do for you?” Cathy said, her voice changing from bright and breezy to quiet and concerned as soon as she saw Sherry’s face. “Here, come and sit down,” she said gently.

  “Is everything all right?” asked Dennis, perching on a corner of the desk.

  “Not really, by the look of things,” Cathy murmured to him. “How can we help, Sherry?”

  Sherry perched on the edge of her seat, clutching her handbag on her lap. She turned wide, tearful eyes on them. “Can I ask you something, please? I need to get in touch with any family Vincenzo might have. Do you know a contact address for anyone?”

  “Let me check his employment form – hold on a moment.” Cathy slid open a file drawer and flicked through the rack. “Here we are.” She pulled out a printed sheet and scanned it quickly. “Next of kin…oh, no, I’m afraid he left that blank. I remember now, he said he had no relatives in this country and that he was estranged from his father back in Italy so there was no point in filling in that question.” She looked up at Sherry’s low moan. “What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”

  Sherry shook her head and bolted from the office, leaving Cathy and Dennis looking at each other in confusion.

  “What was that about?” said Cathy.

  “No idea. Maybe she’s been taking the suspect protein powder as well and it’s affected her moods.”

  “Let’s hope she snaps out of it once the effects wear off. It seems to really mess people about, doesn’t it?”

  “No argument here. Right then,” he said, “since my services don’t seem to be required to ride to the rescue of a damsel in distress, I shall take myself off to rehearsal instead. Will you be joining us down at the Regent Theatre tonight?”

  “Yes, I’ll see you over there. Let’s hope Mark behaves himself tonight. Another walk-out like last night and Adam will give him the flick and put someone else in the role.”

  “Let’s hope all three of them are calmer. The constant scrapping and fighting is really getting old now – even the stage crew are noticing. They already consider actors to be volatile and unreliable and this isn’t doing anything to dispel that view.” Dennis pushed himself off the desk. “With a bit of luck the guys will all calm down now that they’re not taking those allegedly improper substances, and life will return to whatever passes as normal in that crazy little old theatre.”

  The rehearsal seemed to go smoothly enough, from what he could hear as he busied himself with minor chores in the workshop. The same lines were repeated, the same bits of music were played, and no voices were raised in anger except where it was scripted.

  At the interval everything went silent. There were no voices onstage, and he couldn’t hear any of the crew either. He went backstage to the Green Room and was sur
prised to find the whole company there sharing in a table laden with food.

  “What’s the occasion?” he asked Tony. “Is it somebody’s birthday?” Tony swallowed a mouthful of cake and brushed away the crumbs.

  “No mate, just the first of the Green Room suppers. Once rehearsals get this far along, we have a lovely lady called Erica who comes along and makes the tea and provides us with all these goodies – out of the show’s budget, of course. That’s her over there.” He pointed to a short, motherly woman across the room. “Come on, get stuck in mate, you’re looking awfully thin these days. Can’t have you fading away.”

  Tony pushed him towards the table where Dennis was pleased to see a fruit platter among the biscuits and sweet slices. He helped himself to a few grapes and looked around to see if Cathy had arrived yet, but he couldn’t spot her in the crowd.

  “Oh, bananas!” exclaimed Adam, swooping down on the fruit platter. “Erica, you are a marvel – thank you!”

  Dennis stepped back out of the way and felt a toe under his foot. He turned quickly.

  “Oh, sorry! Are you OK?”

  Anger flared in Mark’s eyes but only for a moment. “Yeah, fine,” he said. “How are things with you, Dennis? Sorry I haven’t been training with you lately but I’ve had a few things to deal with, you know how it is.” He managed a smile. “You’re looking pretty good – I don’t think you’ve suffered in my absence.”

  “Thanks. I’m still getting used to the new look – can’t quite believe it. Did you go through that? Having a whole new image of yourself?”

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” said Mark cryptically, and walked away. Dennis was disappointed that he hadn’t had a chance to ask how Sherry was. He shrugged and made his way back to the workshop where it was peaceful.

  Once the music started for the dance routines he slipped through to the auditorium, taking the same seat he’d had last time, well out of the spotlight. There were no actors missing tonight so he’d be able to watch the routines from his seat and, he hoped, pick up the moves and memorise them. He looked around for Cathy and felt a stir of unease when he couldn’t see her. Adam, too, was looking round the darkened theatre, and Dennis hoped he wasn’t preparing a telling-off for the absent choreographer.