by Bev Robitai
Dennis’s eyes widened and his mouth made a small O of surprise.
Chapter Eleven
It was a new man who strode into the theatre the following night. Dennis felt ten feet tall and bullet-proof. He stood straighter, his eyes were brighter, and a smile hovered round his lips. When he walked into the Green Room Jessica looked up and smiled, then did a double-take.
“Bloody hell, Dennis, what’s happened to you?” She looked more intently. “You look different. What is it? No, don’t tell me…”
“I have no intention of telling you, Jessica.”
“Aha!” She understood immediately and a wide grin spread across her face. “Well good for you, mate. It’s about time. Oh don’t worry, I won’t say anything. Your sinful secret is safe with me.” She stopped speaking just in time as Tony and Gazza entered the room. Both were wearing faded sweatshirts from old shows; Tony’s was Cats and Gazza’s was Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat. Dennis felt a bit left out in his plain blue sweatshirt but it gave him a safe topic of conversation to fill the noticeable silence before Tony and Gazza became aware of it. He sat down at the table.
“Jessica, will there be shirts for this show? It would be good to have one as a souvenir.”
“Yes, I think Clara-Jane is organising some. I’ll find out for you.”
“Hey, Dennis,” said Tony, breezing past him, “how about a round of coffees?” He pulled up a few steps later and looked at him with more attention. “Actually, don’t worry, I’ll put the kettle on myself. Want one?”
“Yeah, thanks Tony. That would be great.” Dennis raised his eyebrows at Jessica and she responded with a wink.
“You got a new haircut or something, Doc?” said Gazza. Jessica chuckled and he looked at her suspiciously. “What?”
She was saved from answering when Jack breezed in and bent over to bestow a kiss on her.
“Hello Jessica my love, how’s it going?” He pulled out a chair and sat astride it, looking round to see who else was in the room. “Anything to report I should know about?”
“Like what?”
“Like threatening musclemen lurking outside, that sort of thing? Have they been back?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” she said, turning to Dennis and Gazza. “What about you guys – any sightings?”
“We must have scared them off,” put in Tony from the kitchen. “One look at Gazza with the mallet and they were running. They won’t be back.”
“I’d like to share your optimism,” said Jack, “but these are pretty tough characters, if they’re the ones we think they are.”
“You know them?” said Jessica. “Then can’t you just arrest them for being threatening? Looming with intent? Menacing without due care and attention?”
He shook his head. “There’s no hard evidence against them so there’s nothing we can do just yet. We think they’ve been involved in a number of drug-related crimes around town over the last few months but nobody’s willing to talk. It’s frustrating, but we’ll get something on them eventually.”
Jessica saw a look pass between Gazza and Tony as he brought the coffees over to the table. “Oh no you don’t!” she exclaimed. “I know you two – I can read you like a book, and it’s something manly by Lee Child about righting wrongs. Settle down there, guys, I’m not having you taking matters into your own hands – we don’t need any vigilante action here. I need you two intact for the show, not to mention helping to run this damn theatre.” She appealed to Jack. “Talk some sense into them, will you? Neither of them has what it takes to be Jack Reacher.”
“Much as it pains me to say it, Jessica is actually right.” He dodged a thump on the arm. “Leave this to the proper authorities, guys. I don’t want any future court case jeopardised by claims of assault or grievous bodily harm or any of the other ideas you may have in mind. Understood?”
“Yeah, of course,” they protested innocently.
“We wouldn’t make any trouble – we’re the good guys,” said Tony.
“Just a couple of law-abiding citizens,” said Gazza, sitting back and tipping his cap over his eyes.
“Well I’m glad we got that settled,” Jack said dryly. “We’ll do our bit down at the station to follow up leads and secure strong evidence – that’s what we do. You guys hang round here and make life safe for male strippers and the women who watch them.”
“Thanks, Jack. Can’t you at least tell us how that Vincenzo guy was murdered? You’ll have some suspects in mind, won’t you?” Tony wheedled.
Jack shook his head. He levered himself off the chair and headed towards the door, where he sketched a salute. “Evening all. I’ll be off then.”
When the four stripper actors gathered in the Green Room for supper during the interval, Jessica went over to talk to them.
“Can you guys be available for a photo shoot this weekend, say Saturday afternoon about two o’clock? We’ve got a photographer lined up if you can fit it in.”
They looked at each other, nodding.
“Sure, that should work,” said Mark. “Where are we doing it? Here?”
“We’ll do a few shots here, yes, but Nick thought we could do some calendar-type shots to use as a centrefold for the programme. If we have a great shot of your glistening sexy bodies and a small calendar underneath, the programme will end up being used as a poster on office walls all over Whetford for the entire year. Nick is rubbing his hands in glee over how much he’ll be able to charge for adverts around the edge of the picture.”
Mark grinned. “Now that sounds like a good deal. Do we get a cut of that?”
“Let me see…” she pretended to consider the idea. “Yeah… nah. Sorry Mark, all proceeds go to this dear old theatre – you know that. It’s one of those bottomless pits we pour money into because we love the place.”
“This photographer,” said Dennis, “is he the one Cathy told me about that does body-building photos?”
“Yes, that’s right. Hey, you should come along on Saturday, Dennis. You’ll be needing your after photo done, won’t you? I’m sure he can fit in a few shots up the Hook Valley. We’re going to put the guys in the river and get some cool shots with reflections of tanned torsos in the water. Afterwards he can do some of you too.”
There was a crash of breaking crockery as a plate of muffins hit the floor and shattered. Mark busied himself picking them up, muttering apologies from beneath the table.
“Oh and another little expedition for you four,” said Jessica, “is the promo appearance downtown on Friday night. We’re going to dress you up and take you round all the bars and clubs in a stretch limo to hand out flyers and a few tickets. It shouldn’t take too long, just an hour or so.” She grinned. “You may meet some new and exciting people.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Warwick. “Dear sweet little Leonie has been finding her kicks elsewhere so I might as well be on the lookout for fresh talent myself. Count me in.”
“I was going to go out to the track on Friday night, but I suppose I could be there,” Ricky sighed as if being put upon.
“Ooh, a parade through town, what fun!” Simon smiled widely. “Can we choose our own outfits?”
“Um, I think we’d better let Wardrobe sort that one out,” said Jessica. “I’m sure Clara-Jane will have her ideas on what you’ll be wearing. What about you, Mark? Is Friday night OK with you?”
“Er, yes, Friday is fine.” He hesitated. “I’m not sure about Saturday afternoon though. If we were just doing a short shoot here it would be all right but I don’t want to be tied up all afternoon driving around doing outdoor shoots. Could we keep it simple and just do some group shots here? There must be enough props around that we could use to make them interesting. And the quicker the session, the less the photographer will charge, surely? All the more money for the theatre, eh Jessica?”
She eyed him thoughtfully. “You may have a point there, Mark. I’ll talk to Nick and the photographer and see what they think. Anyway, put Friday night and Satu
rday afternoon in your diaries for now and I’ll let you know the exact details later. All good, guys?”
“Yep.”
“Sure.”
“Sweet as.”
After his early morning workout on Friday Dennis sought out Cathy in her office to arrange a pick-up time for the evening’s outing. Jessica had roped him in as driver, and Cathy as part of the guys’ entourage.
“We’ll head for the theatre at seven o’clock to get dressed in whatever outfits Wardrobe has chosen for us. Does that sound OK?”
“Sure,” Cathy smiled. “I hope Clara-Jane has picked out something short and sexy with sequins to make this glittering event special.”
“And perhaps she’ll have found something nice for you, too.”
She giggled. “Listen to you, making smart jokes like that. I always thought you had a great sense of humour even when you were shy and unhappy about yourself. It’s nice to see I was right.”
“Well thank you. I feel more myself now, as if I’m actually in control of my life and not just coasting along letting things happen to me and trying to cope with them.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe how long I wasted feeling bad after Louise left. If only I’d met you sooner.”
“You might not have been ready then.It takes time to recover from wounds like the ones she inflicted. You needed to come to terms with the changes in your life before you could move on.”
“Well,” he smiled, “I’ve moved on now, haven’t I? New body, new interests, new girlfriend.” He winked. “New techniques, too.”
“Yes, and I’m sure we can expand your education in that area even further, if you’re willing to place yourself in my hands.”
“Oh God, woman, how can I go to work now with the images you’ve just put into my head? Look, hold that thought, and we’ll pick it up later on tonight, all right?”
He gave her a quick kiss goodbye and went off to the office with a grin on his face.
They presented themselves to Jessica that night, giggling like a couple of adolescents.
“OK, we’re here. Where do we find our outfits?”
She looked at them tolerantly. “Having fun, you two? That’s good. Just pop up the stairs to the wardrobe room – those stairs over there you go past on the way to the Rose Room.”
“That’s funny,” said Dennis, “I never noticed them before.”
“Well with all the odd steps and corners and corridors in that area it’s not really surprising. I used to get lost trying to get from the upper props cage to the workshop, even though you could see one from the other. I’d been here at least six months before I ventured up the wardrobe stairs myself.” She propelled them across the Green Room. “Off you trot, chaps – Clara-Jane is up there waiting for you. First in best dressed.”
Dennis chivalrously stood aside so Cathy could go up the narrow wooden steps ahead of him, with the added bonus of enjoying the view of her athletic bottom in black Lycra leggings right at his eye level.
She pushed open a white panelled door at the top and they entered a long narrow attic-like room filled with row upon row of clothing racks. It had a faintly musty smell of second-hand clothes and ancient fabrics, overlaid with a hint of pot-pourri and incense. To their right was a high white counter with a mound of clothing draped over it and several small racks behind it. A head with short magenta hair popped round the end of a wall of shelving beside the counter.
“Hello Cathy! And you’re Dennis aren’t you? We haven’t been properly introduced yet – I’m Clara-Jane.” She bustled over and offered a plump white hand to shake. “So, you’re out on the town with the boys tonight, eh? Let’s see what we can kit you out with.” She eyed Dennis up and down. “Good bod. I’m surprised you aren’t on stage with the others.”
“Thank you. It hasn’t always been like this,” he confessed. “This is actually all Cathy’s work. She’s been training me down at Intensity.”
“Really? Well, I think we all shape our partners in our own image, don’t we? I meet nice-looking men and within three months they’re sharing my pizza and looking as round as I am. Still, makes more work for you, eh Cathy? You’re looking disgustingly fit as usual.” She turned to one of the racks and picked up a tiny little red dress Dennis assumed was a child’s outfit. “Here you go, see if you can slip into this little number. There’s a changing room over there. Dennis, I’ve got a dark suit that’s quite military in design that will look great as a chauffeur’s uniform, if it’s not too big on you. Have you got any plain white shirts of your own?”
“Er, no, not plain white.”
“That’s all right, I’ll fit you out in one of ours. Have a rummage on that rack over there and see if you can find one your size, will you? And here’s a dark tie to go with it.” She pushed him towards a long rack of white shirts in every style from frilled evening to blousy pirate.
A few minutes later he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“How’s this?”
As he turned and took in the sight of Cathy dressed in a clinging red mini-dress his jaw dropped open.
“Wow.” He stopped, lost for words.
“Just ‘wow’?” she teased. “Nothing more to say on the subject?”
“Words are superfluous.” He took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly until Clara-Jane cleared her throat loudly.
“OK, you two, that’ll do! I see your outfit is a success, Cathy. Let’s get the rest of this fellow’s chauffeur uniform sorted out. Can you find him a peaked cap from one of the boxes on that shelf please? Come on Dennis, haven’t you found a shirt yet?”
“They all look the same to me,” he protested. “White, sleeves, buttons, collar. How do I know which one’s right?”
“Oh move aside, you hopeless male, I’ll do it.” Clara-Jane plucked three shirts from the rack and thrust them at him. “Right, try those on.”
“Where was the changing room again?”
“Oh just slip them on out here, no need to hide away, unless you have an over-developed sense of modesty. Go on, whip your top off and see which one of these fits you.” He obeyed, seeing no choice in the matter.
Cathy came back with a hat. “I see you got your shirt off,” she grinned. “Couldn’t help impressing an audience, eh?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” sputtered Dennis, “Clara-Jane insisted.”
“R
ight, of course she did.” Cathy leaned shoulder to shoulder with Clara-Jane and they surveyed Dennis knowingly. “He’s not bad, is he?”
“You did well there, Cathy. Very nice indeed.”
Dennis hurriedly put a shirt on and shrugged into the dark jacket. He held his hand out for the cap and put it on. “How’s that?”
They looked at each other.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to see the trousers as well,” gurgled Cathy, nudging Clara-Jane who burst out laughing.
“Oh definitely. Got to see the trousers, Dennis. They can be a tricky thing to fit!”
He picked up the pants, wheeled, and disappeared into the changing room while they fell about giggling. Safely behind the curtain, he smiled to himself. This was fun.
Once Cathy and Dennis were both fully equipped for the evening’s outing they went back down to find the guys, Cathy teetering on the stairs in the highest heels she’d ever worn in her life.
“Could you go first? Then I’ll put my hand on your shoulder to steady myself.”
“And I’ll…” Dennis stopped. He’d been about to say he’d provide a soft landing if she fell on him, but suddenly realised that was happily no longer true. “I’ll catch you if you trip,” he promised her.
“I know you will, sweetheart. That’s why we’ve been building all those muscles, isn’t it.” She reached the level floor with a sigh of relief. “I can’t wait to see what the guys are wearing. I wonder if they’ll use their stripper costumes.”
“I was expecting something formal. They wear tail coats in the final dance scene, don’t they? They’d be more appropriate for
a tour of the nightclubs.”
Neither of them guessed right. They found the four strippers in the Green Room looking dubiously at a set of elaborate Spanish jackets bejewelled with sequins and rhinestones.
“Ai caramba,” said Ricky sarcastically. “Are we meant to be seen in public wearing these?”
“Oh, they’re great!” Simon reached for a jacket and swung it around himself. “My God they’re heavy too!” He inserted his arms into the jewel-encrusted garment. “There is some serious bling here, boys, but I tell you what – don’t try wiping your nose on the sleeve or you’ll take the end off!” He pirouetted across the room with his arms above his head snapping imaginary castanets.
The others reached for a jacket each and slid them on. Warwick looked impressive, Mark looked resigned, and Ricky looked furious.
“Jeez, it’s bad enough we have to wear the makings of a carnival in the streets, but mine doesn’t even fit.” He held out his arms to show just half a hand protruding from each sleeve. Clara-Jane came in at that point brandishing scissors and Velcro.
“All right you lot, let’s see what we have to do to these. Stand still for a moment will you? Hey, Simon! Over here please.” They gathered in front of her like naughty schoolchildren. “There’s a limit to what we’re allowed to do to these as they’re only borrowed, but they have some clever adjustments inside that should make them able to fit all of you. Yes Ricky,” she forestalled his complaint, “including you. Now you have to promise me you’ll take care of these tonight, OK? Like I said, they’re on loan, and they’re worth a small fortune. Don’t lose them, don’t damage them, and make sure they’re back in good shape to wear onstage once we open, yes?”
They all muttered agreement. Clara-Jane turned to Dennis. “If there’s any rough stuff tonight you’ll have to deal with it – your outfit is expendable.”
“Eh? Just what are you expecting to happen?” he asked her. “We’re not going looking for trouble, are we? I thought this was just a quick trip round the bars so let people see the guys and tell them to come to the show. Nobody mentioned rough stuff.”