The Final Act

by Dee, Bonnie

  “I told you if you were late again—”

  “Only ten minutes.”

  “—you’d be out of here.”

  Michael ignored him and scraped plates into the garbage.

  His boss ran on for a few more minutes before returning to the food prep area to harass the prep cooks.

  Michael slammed the tray of dirty dishes into the machine and pushed the button. He faced the next stack of plates. On the top one was an almost untouched chicken breast in wine sauce. After glancing around the kitchen, he grabbed a fork and wolfed down the meat. Although barely lukewarm, it was delicious.

  He felt a hundred percent better with the edge off his hunger. He loaded a tray of glasses then leaned against the counter, arms folded, waiting for the machine to run its cycle.

  The audition really had gone well today. That Elise girl was a pretty good actress and had a beautiful voice. Not to mention she was a hot Latina, with a pair of amazing big, brown eyes, tan skin and shiny black hair. It was really easy working with her, and kissing her had been a pleasure. What the hell was her last name again? Marquez?

  The buzzer went off. Michael opened the back end of the dishwasher and pulled out the steaming plates. It was stupid to think about the audition and spin daydreams about the future. They’d never come true before. If he didn’t put any hopes into it, maybe this time something good would finally happen.

  For the moment he needed to figure out where he was going to sleep tonight.

  Gretchen carried the last load of her stuff up to the apartment. She was sweating from climbing up and down the stairs a dozen times. Living on the fourth floor of a building with a broken elevator was going to be a daily aerobic workout, which was exactly what she needed to keep in shape. Sitting at a desk in her uncle’s car dealership every day, she’d begun to pack on a few pounds.

  Everything was falling into place perfectly. She’d moved to New York and immediately found a place to live and a job in a department store with hours flexible enough to work around auditions.

  Her very first audition had gone amazingly well. She just knew she was going to make the road company of Transitions, felt it in her bones. In fact, she might not need this apartment or the sales job if she was going on a national tour. All because she’d taken a chance and left Ohio.

  Gretchen stumbled through the doorway into the apartment and plunked down the heavy box overflowing with odds and end.

  Sylvia stood in the middle of the apartment, staring at Gretchen’s pile of boxes.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have them put away in a second. Trust me. I’m easy to live with. You won’t even know I’m here.”

  “Did you say you went to the Transitions auditions?” Sylvia asked as she walked around the boxes and headed into the kitchenette. “I have a friend who tried out for a role. His name’s Michael Lucas. As a matter of fact, he was staying here until yesterday. Did you happen to meet him at auditions?”

  “I don’t know. There were so many people.”

  Sylvia came back into the room with a bottle of water in hand. “Medium height, sandy hair, blue eyes that could stop you in your tracks, and his voice is amazing.”

  “I don’t think I read with him. I’d remember someone like that. You were living with him?”

  “Not living living. He’s just a friend.”

  “But you’d like him to be something more?” Gretchen guessed.

  “No. I’m gay.”

  “Oh!”

  Sylvia’s face grew still. “That isn’t going to be a problem for you, is it?”

  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry. I’ve just never known a gay person before, at least not that I was aware of.” Gretchen laughed. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I came from a little hick town.”

  Sylvia smiled. “Welcome to the big city, roomie.” She set her water bottle on the coffee table and picked up a box.

  “I’ll help you carry your stuff into your room. This quilt is beautiful, by the way.” A wedding ring quilt wrapped in plastic was at the top of the box Sylvia carried.

  “My great-grandmother sewed that as part of my grandmother’s wedding trousseau. Grandma left it to me when she died. It is beautiful. I forget to really appreciate it.”

  “Wedding trousseau? You must come from a really traditional family.”

  “Yeah. Big, too. Lots of aunts, uncles and cousins.” Gretchen rolled her suitcase into the bedroom.

  “What did they think of you moving to New York?”

  “Not happy. They think I’m too young to know what I’m doing.”

  “How old are you?” Sylvia set the box with the quilt on the floor.

  “Twenty-one and never been out of Chesterton. I earned an Associate’s degree in business at community college and worked at my uncle’s car dealership after that. Since he never had kids of his own, he wanted me to take over someday. Then one night I had…I guess you’d call it an epiphany.”

  She plopped on the bed and Sylvia sat beside her.

  “I went with a friend to see a production of Wicked in Cleveland, and in the middle of the show it happened. I realized the happiest I’d ever been was when I was onstage in high school plays. I watched the show and thought, why not me? Why shouldn’t I do something that really makes me happy? The next morning I started planning my escape. A month later—here I am.”

  Sylvia’s eyes opened wide. “You’re kidding me? You moved here on a whim?”

  “Not a whim. I was inspired.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? Some of my friends have been trying for years to break into show business and gotten nowhere.”

  Gretchen nodded. “Believe me, I know the statistics and I’ve heard all the arguments. Every relative I’ve got tried to convince me not to go, but I have to at least try it. I’m giving myself a year. If I haven’t gotten work by then, even some way-off-Broadway show or a commercial, I’ll call it quits.”

  “Just like that? Flip a switch and go back home? Honey, theater’s a drug that gets into your system. Sometimes you get sucked in and can’t stop. My last girlfriend was an audition junky.” Sylvia laughed sharply. “Ironically, it was when she hit it big that it ruined us as a couple. She lives in L.A. now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Sylvia rose. “Well, if love’s worthwhile, it should be able to survive a test or two, right?” She headed into the living room to get another box.

  Gretchen stood and walked to the small, grimy window facing the brick wall across the alley. It was going to take some getting used to, being boxed up like this. Everything about the noise and bustle of the city would take some acclimation, but she knew she could do it. She was full of energy and ambition and she would succeed.

  Her phone rang. She located her purse in the maze of boxes. “Hello?”

  “Gretchen Hamilton?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Carrie McGuire, Phil Pender’s production assistant. Phil liked your work and wants to see you again. Can you make it to an audition tomorrow night?”

  Gretchen’s throat was so tight she could hardly answer. “Yes. Of course. Thank you!” She hung up and let out a scream that brought Sylvia running from the other room.

  “Is it a mouse? Don’t worry. They’ll stay out of your way. Just try to ignore them.”

  “I got it! The call! They want me to read again for the ingénue role. I can’t believe it!” She whirled around the room, pumping her fist in the air. “Yes!”

  Sylvia shook her head. “My God, I can’t believe it. You are one lucky bitch.”

  Too excited to contain herself, Gretchen threw her arms around her new roommate and hugged her. Here she was in New York less than a week and close to being cast in the first touring company of one of the biggest shows currently running on Broadway. Who said dreams didn’t come true?

  Denny gripped Tom’s hips, slippery with sweat, and thrust deeper into his ass. The muscular walls of his lover’s tight channel clenched around his straining cock, urging
him toward release. Grunting rhythmically, Denny drove in and out faster.

  Tom thrust back toward him while pumping his own cock in his fist. Suddenly he froze and cried out.

  The sound set Denny off. His balls contracted as his cock pulsed. Ecstasy surged through him. “Christ, Tom!”

  When the last wave of pleasure had shuddered through him, Tom slid from his hands and knees to his belly, sprawling across the bed.

  Denny collapsed on his lover’s hot body, covering him like a blanket. He blew aside strands of Tom’s dark hair and nuzzled the back of his neck.

  “God, you feel so good. I’m going to miss you so much.”

  Tom’s deep voice was muffled by the pillow. “Me, too. I’m happy for you. It’s the break you’ve been waiting for, but it’s going to be a long time apart.”

  Denny imagined the months ahead, living without Tom’s quirky sense of humor and his warm body in bed at night. “I’ll call all the time and we can talk online.”

  “It’ll be like old times.” Tom grinned. “Like how we met.”

  Denny kissed his shoulder. “Tomcat. How clever was that?”

  “No worse than Ace-in-the-hole. Who picks a screen name that’s, like, twenty characters long and so dumb?”

  Laughing, Denny rolled off of Tom and onto his own side of the bed. Funny how that happened over time, one side of a bed belonging to a person. He stared at the ceiling and his smile disappeared as he realized he would gaze at a hundred anonymous hotel ceilings before he slept with his boyfriend again.

  Tom rested a hand on Denny’s chest, threading his fingers through chest hair and tugging lightly. “Hey, don’t worry. We’ll make it through this. A little over a year isn’t so long. Definitely do-able.”

  Denny turned his head on the pillow and took a mental snapshot of Tom’s face: the crook in his nose, his dark, stubbled jaw, the thick eyebrows over sparkling black eyes. He touched the curve of Tom’s cheek. “I love you.”

  “Stop it, man. You’re going to have me crying like a little girl.” Tom captured his hand and held it. “Change of subject. How’s Elena? This is a big gig. She must be pretty nervous.”

  “No more than I am. Some people are always going to compare us to the Broadway company and find us lacking, no matter how good we are.”

  “How about this Lucas guy? He any good?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s great casting. Elena and Michael are flint and tinder. Very combustible.”

  “And your character is the wet towel trying to beat the fire out.”

  “Richard’s not like that.” Denny felt very protective of his character. “He loves Kathleen and does everything he can to hold onto her, even though he knows deep inside she’ll always love Aaron more than him. Richard’s not the bad guy.”

  “What do you suppose old Richard does after Kathleen dumps his ass and goes back to Aaron for the happily ever after?” Tom drew slow circles around Denny’s right nipple before tweaking it sharply.

  “He lives out his days on a tropical island with a handsome cabana boy.” Denny reached down and cradled Tom’s flaccid cock in his hand. “He lives to be an old man and dies in bed with his lifetime lover—a heart attack from too much sex.”

  Tom shifted under his touch. “Mm. Sounds good. Except for the heart attack. That’s creepy. Could you imagine your partner dropping dead in the middle of it?”

  Denny let go of Tom’s cock and got out of bed. “I’ve got to take a piss. You want a bottle of water or something to eat?”

  “Water, but I’m not hungry.”

  Denny looked down at his boyfriend’s compact, boxer’s body. “I dread to think what kind of crap you’re going to consume when I’m not here to cook something nutritious. Promise me you won’t survive on pizza, beer and pork rinds.”

  “Nothing but brown rice, tofu and greens. I promise.”

  Denny laughed. He went to the bathroom then to the kitchen where he pulled a pair of bottles from the fridge before padding back to bed. Even these mundane actions took on significance as he realized it was the last time he would be doing them for a long time.

  He sat on the bed and offered Tom the cold water.

  “As for the rest of the cast. Bill, Logan and Trinka will be fine. But Gretchen Hamilton, the girl playing Audrey is just a kid with no professional experience at all. High school plays and a little local theater, that’s it, and Pender’s given her this huge role. What’s he thinking?”

  “Must see something special in her.” Tom took a long drink. “Do you really think she’ll freeze in the spotlight, or are you jealous because her break came so easily?”

  “Shut up. I hate when you’re insightful.” Denny put his bottle on the nightstand and stretched out on the bed.

  Tom grinned. “I may work in a bank, but I’m still a psych major at heart.”

  “No, really. Shut up.” Denny rolled over and pressed him to the bed, kissing him quiet. Their tongues twined together like long-time dance partners.

  After a few kisses, Denny pulled away and rested his forehead against Tom’s. “I can’t believe I’m leaving for Chicago tomorrow. Eight weeks of rehearsals and a month of performances.”

  “I’ll fly out to see you, and maybe you can come home some weekend.”

  “I’ll try.” Denny knew there was no free time on the production schedule. He kissed Tom’s jaw then nibbled his neck.

  “We’ll make it work. We’ve been together almost six years. A little time apart isn’t going to separate us.” He held Denny close and rubbed his hand up and down his back. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime. You have to go for it without reservations.”

  “I know,” Denny murmured against his lover’s warm skin. “It’s going to be great.”

  But I’ll miss you.

  Act One: Chicago

  Scene One: Backstage

  Jake shifted the strap of the guitar on his shoulder and tuned the A string. He played a chord, then a few bars of the score.

  Rashid, the drummer, started the familiar rhythm of the opening number, “We Are All”, and Jake played along. The video monitor in the pit flickered from blue screen to a view of the stage, and Jake’s gaze shot to it.

  At first the stage was empty then some of the actors came out to check their props and warm up or hang out. While he played the guitar solo in the middle of “We Are All”, Jake watched Denny and Elena talking center stage.

  After a bit, Michael walked from the wings to join them. In seconds flat, he had Elena wound up about something, frowning and gesturing. The guy sure knew how to press her buttons. Jake grinned.

  Then she walked on stage. His fingers continued to play the song, but his attention focused on the blonde angel and the way the light struck her hair, making a halo.

  Gretchen slipped her arm around Denny’s waist, and he slung his across her shoulders. They leaned toward each other, probably gossiping about the bickering pair.

  Elena scolded, while Michael stood slouching and silent, letting her wear herself out like a moth beating against a windowpane. They were fire and ice, but it worked come show time, when somehow they ignited.

  Gretchen laughed at something Denny had said, her eyes crinkling and her mouth open. She had the happiest smile Jake had ever seen, an infectious grin that told the world she loved it and believed everything would turn out all right.

  Jake had never spoken to her, but he’d heard her talking to other people and it seemed her optimism was sincere. He wanted to get closer, to feel her warmth shining on him, but didn’t know how to approach her. He was generally confident with women, but Gretchen made him feel awkward and self-doubting.

  Steve, the bass player, came up beside him. “She’s a hottie. I’d do her.”

  “A little too corn-fed country girl for me.” Jake dropped his gaze to his guitar, feigning disinterest.

  “Wait a minute. Who are you talking about? I meant Elena.”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s hot.”

  Steve looked from the monitor to Ja
ke. “No way. Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for Miss Iowa? You’re shittin’ me.”

  Jake snorted and tightened a string.

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “No. I’m not interested.”

  “Forget it, man. It’ll never happen. We’re down here in hell and that’s Nirvana.” Steve pointed at the stage floor only a few feet above their heads. “She’s never going to go for you.”

  “I told you I don’t care.” Jack was saved from listening to more of Steve’s bullshit when the conductor called for attention.

  “Let’s run through ‘Climbing Up’ and the entr’acte.” Arthur Wallace lifted his hands and the musicians settled and focused, waiting for his command to begin.

  Jake glanced at the monitor again, but Gretchen was gone and the stage was empty. With a sigh, he turned his score to “Climbing Up”. Steve was right. Jake could look at Gretchen all he wanted, but he had a crappy shot at hooking up with her. Musicians tended to stick together, as did the cast and crew. Not always, but it was the general pattern.

  It was better this way, he thought, sliding his finger silently up and down a string. If he talked to her, he might find out she wasn’t that special after all. Or worse, that she was everything he imagined, but she wouldn’t be interested in him.

  Better to keep his distance and his fantasy.

  “Michael, are you even listening?” Elena bitched. “You can’t keep changing things. It puts me off balance.”

  “Keeps it fresh,” Michael replied in an unruffled tone guaranteed to irritate her. “It’s good for you.”

  “I give up. I absolutely give up.” She pushed past him and stalked off stage.

  Michael watched the indignant twitch of her ass then grinned at Denny and Gretchen before sauntering off in the opposite direction.

  “What do you think? Are those two going to combust before opening night?” Denny asked Gretchen as they also left the stage to walk toward the dressing rooms. He was pretty tired of discussing Elena and Michael’s chance for romance, but living in a strange city hundreds of miles from home with his own love life on hold, there wasn’t much else to talk about. He was counting the days until opening night and Tom’s visit.