And the Next Thing You Know . . .

by Chase Taylor Hackett

“And yet—here you are. And?”

  “And what? I just came to be nice. There’s no story here!”

  I noticed that Theo had started to glance in my direction. Fairly annoyed glances, too.

  “Really?” said Tommy, doubtfully.

  “I swear. I have no hidden agenda, I have no rotten fruit to throw, nothing. I come in peace.”

  “You and Michael Rennie.”

  “If you say so.”

  I glanced over and Theo was looking at me again. He had moved up the scale a couple notches from annoyed to furious.

  “So Theo wrote one of the songs?”

  “Two,” said Tommy. “One in the first half and one in the second.” He pushed one of the programs on the table at me.

  “Figures. I was hoping not to have to stay for the whole thing.”

  “I feel compelled to point out that checking your cell phone during the performance is considered very bad form.”

  “I did that once!” I said. “Once! Did Roger tell you everything I did wrong?”

  Just then I saw Theo get up.

  The only way you could get from his side of the big row of tables over to our side was to walk all the way down to the stage and around, which is what Theo did, and now he was headed in our direction. Man, he was seething.

  “Look out,” said Tommy. “Incoming.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, can’t a guy just come and be a nice guy?”

  “You can’t and you aren’t.”

  “Have a seat, Theo.”

  “No.”

  “Rebecca couldn’t be here, so I thought it was the least—and after all, we have been sleeping together all week—”

  He sat down.

  “Hey!” he whispered furiously. “Madison does not need to know that.”

  “Madison is here?” I sat up and started sorting through the big table to see if I could pick him out. I had to see the famous Madison.

  “He is,” answered Tommy. “And no offense or anything, Theo, I know I just met the guy, but is he being a bit of an ass or what?”

  “Yeah he is being. When it’s not all about him, he gets a little—edgy.”

  “Which one is he?” I asked Tommy, knowing he’d tell me.

  “Up at the very end.”

  “The blond beach boy?” I turned to Theo. “Nice. He’s really cute!”

  “I know, right?” said Tommy. “But that’s not the one. The one with the goatee.”

  I looked to the long table again. It was like Brooklyn over there.

  “Tommy, they all have goatees, even the women.”

  Tommy puffed his cheeks out, making a fat face. I glanced over again.

  The chubby one? That guy? No way.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” I checked with Theo, who looked like a boiler about to blow.

  “So not kidding,” said Tommy.

  “The fat one with the little beard where his chin would be if he had one?”

  “He’s not fat!”

  “Yup, him,” said Tommy.

  “What’s it to you, anyway?” asked Theo, eyebrows scrunched together and ready for battle.

  “It’s just that you’ve been giving me crap since day one about being old and flabby—”

  “That’s only because you act like you’re Channing fucking Tatum—”

  “—and this whole time you’ve been sleeping with that?”

  “Obviously not, since this whole time I’ve been ‘sleeping’ with you,” he said with air quotes.

  “You’re going out with that slacker?” It didn’t make sense.

  “Seriously,” Tommy chimed in. “Madison is definitely updating.” Updating? We both looked at Tommy. “When you go out with somebody way better looking than you.”

  I turned back to Theo.

  “How old is the guy?”

  “He’s thirty-two, not that it’s any of your business.”

  “Wow. Are you sure? Looks older. Have you seen his driver’s license?”

  “Okay, thirty-five, and shut up!”

  “Is he still like Gen X? Because he looks more like Gen XL. Can we talk about the pudge?”

  “He’s incredibly talented and his career is really taking off!”

  “So’s his hair.”

  “That is so like you, you only see the surface of things. You see the pudge and the hairline and you think you know him. Let me tell you, he’s smart, he knows gobs of shows and he can be really funny sometimes, he’s into all these really cool eastern religions and—”

  I could tell he was trying not to scream, and it occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have baited him this far. I had come to be supportive, after all, and instead—

  “Hey look, Theo, let’s not do this—I’m sor—”

  “This showcase,” he said very quietly and very intensely, interrupting me mid-apology. Wait, I was apologizing? “I know this whole thing doesn’t look like much to you, but it’s really important to me—”

  “Everyone keeps telling me that—”

  “So don’t ruin it!”

  He was starting to lose it, and getting louder. Behind him a couple heads glanced over at us.

  “Look, please,” he said quietly. “Go. Do not stay here. I don’t want you here.”

  “I’m not going to go.” Of course this was the last place on the planet I wanted to be, but now it was another one of those principle-of-the-thing things. I couldn’t give in, even if I wanted to. If Theo wanted me gone, then I was bolted to that banquette. “I went to all the trouble to find this place, come here, I paid the stupid cover, and you know what else? It’s a free country.”

  Theo looked me fiercely in the eyes for a couple seconds before he spoke.

  “I hate you so much.”

  “I’m still not leaving.”

  “Fine,” he said, clearly unhappy. Obviously little Theo was very used to getting his own way. Too bad about little Theo.

  A different waitress—in a gigantic wig and a bowling costume, for no reason that I could guess—was suddenly there.

  “One cranberry soda, no vodka. One vodka-tonic, with a side order of—vodka,” she said sorting the three glasses out from the crowd on her tray. “And here’s your Dr Pepper, hon.” She gave a big motherly smile to Theo, set another glass down, and went. Theo was so involved in his outrage that his eyes never moved from glaring at me.

  “Fine,” he said again.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Fine-then-here’s-the-deal. You can stay, but you may not speak about my songs. Not to me, not to anyone. If you love them, if you hate them, you keep it to yourself. Not a single word, understand?”

  “Okay, I guess I can handle a non-disclosure. Where do I sign?”

  Someone had sat down in front of an upright piano that had obviously survived the Great Depression—and probably the Civil War Draft Riots. The lights, such as they were, started to dim, and the good-looking beach boy next to Fat Madison called over in the world’s loudest stage whisper:

  “Theo!”

  Theo stood up, picked up his drink and turned to go.

  “Hey Theo?” I said.

  “What!” he snapped back at me.

  “Break a leg.”

  Theo took a slurp on the straw of his Dr Pepper.

  “You look ridiculous in that suit.”

  I looked at Tommy for support.

  “Just think what he’d have said if you’d brought him flowers.”

  Theo didn’t have time to get back to his side of the long string of tables, so he grabbed an empty chair on this side of the Great Divide and sat with his back to us. The piano player got going then, and so did the evening. Our hostess-person was on stage, introducing the first song from notes on 3x5 cards—and we were off. I’ll a
dmit I didn’t really get most of it. It was a weird mix of songs from musicals still being written. There was even one really bad hip-hop number. But Theo’s songs were actually good—and it was a huge relief to be able to say that, because what would I have said if his songs totally stank? Of course I’d just promised not to say anything, either way, but I was still really happy that his songs were good, and they seemed to go really well with the little audience.

  His first song was a guy singing how frustrated he was because he wanted to write a love song about his girlfriend and couldn’t—and it was actually funny. It got so silly, by the end we were all doubled-over laughing.

  And in the second half, a girl came out and sang this ballad about how she wanted people to look at her and see that she was special, and not just a typist. It was a really pretty tune, and it sat on the girl’s voice beautifully—and it was such a modest little wish, it broke your heart.

  So it was a double-win for Theo. I actually felt—you know—kinda proud of him. Which was stupid because none of this had anything to do with me.

  When the show was over, there was a huge party over at the songwriters’ table. I sat in my booth with Tommy—we agreed that Theo’s songs were the best of the evening. We waited for things to calm down a little at the other table before we went over to add our congratulations to the great heap of gushing compliments they were hurling at each other.

  Seriously, that was my intention when I slid out of the banquette. I knew it was a gross violation of the gag order he’d imposed, but I was just going to go over and say something nice. I stood behind Theo’s chair for a bit—he knew I was there—and I waited for a chance to say something.

  “Theo—” I said leaning down when he finally paused in his conversation with the guy on his left—and he immediately launched into an even louder conversation with the girl on his right. Seriously ticked me off, which I’m sure was his intention. When the same thing happened after my second try, I changed tactics.

  You want to be an asshole? Fantastic. I’d had three years at Princeton Law learning nothing but how to be an asshole—and I graduated top of my class.

  Welcome to the majors, Iowa.

  Across the table Tommy was shamelessly flirting with the hot surfer-looking-guy. Too bad about you, Tommy, I thought, as I reached over Theo and across the table and shoved my hand in front of the beach boy’s face.

  “Hi,” I said, “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jeffrey.”

  “Swithin,” said the surfer a little uncertainly as he shook my hand. Did he really say Swithin? That’s right, his name was in the program.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, lying. I was loud enough to be heard over the noise of the group. I was leaning across Theo, and certainly he could hear me, which was the whole point. “Congratulations on your song tonight! It went really well, don’t you think?”

  “Hey thanks, man.”

  Next to Tommy there was a very fey guy in his thirties, with a straw between his fingers like a cigarette.

  “Hi, I’m Jeffrey,” I said.

  “Well hello, Jeffrey!” said the fey one enthusiastically. At least somebody was glad to see me. “Jaspuh. How nice to meet you, darling.”

  Well hush my mouth. Jas-puh. I didn’t know which was sillier, the name or the deep-south accent.

  “You had a song on the program tonight, too, didn’t you? It was really great!” I had no idea which song it was and couldn’t care anyway.

  “Well aren’t you suddenly the most interesting person in the room, handsome. But the song was only half mine—you must meet my collaborator, Jessica.”

  “Hi-how-ah-ya,” said a dark woman speaking heavy Brooklyn, pumping my hand like a politician.

  “A real thrill to meet you, after everything Theo’s told me,” I said, giving Theo’s shoulder a squeeze. Good lord, that shoulder was like granite. Perfect. Well, it was time to stop dicking around and get to the point. I turned toward the upper end of the group with just a big ol’ grin on my face.

  “And you have to be Madison,” I said to the slob with the awful little goatee and a sour look on his face. “I’ve definitely heard a lot about you,” I said. “Just tons. Tons and tons.”

  “Jeff—” said Theo, finally, trying to turn around to me. Now he wanted to talk to me. You had your chance, little one, I thought to myself, and I kept right on going.

  “Tons.”

  “Jeff—”

  “What a shame you didn’t have a song on the program tonight.”

  “I’ve got a show at Goodspeed in a developmental—”

  “Theo told me all about it!” Actually I had gotten the details from Rebecca, and okay, yeah, maybe I’d asked her. “And how sweet it was of Theo to go all the way up there to help you out with your show.” Judging from the large round eyes in the faces at the table, and the fact that all conversation around me had stopped, I gathered pretty much everybody here had also heard some version of the saga of Goodspeed.

  “Jeff—” tried Theo again, but now it was Madison who was barreling on over the top of him.

  “It’s a very big deal,” he tried to impress upon me, “and there’s a tremendous amount of pressure—”

  “I’m sure,” I interrupted. “Just as well you didn’t have a song on the program tonight, then. I guess they only picked the best writers to include.” Swithin snorted. “But you just keep plugging away, Madison, and I’m sure even you’ll get your chance someday.” Jasper turned his head into Jessica’s shoulder, and his body was shaking up and down.

  “Jeff—!” said Theo really really loud trying to get up but my hands were on his shoulders keeping him in the chair.

  This next part was a stroke of genius that just came to me in the moment.

  There were probably sixty people at this long table and easily half were turned watching us at the upper end.

  I leaned down and gave Theo a little hug from behind—

  “I’m gonna run, honey,” I said, still being careful to pitch my voice so everyone could hear me. “But you stay and have fun with your friends.” I looked around to the others, still with my hands on Theo. “So nice meeting you all. And you,” I said, giving Theo another big, affectionate squeeze, “I am so proud of you!” and I leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. He was too stunned to react. “I’ll see you when you get home, Tiger,” I said with a light caress of his cheek before I turned and headed for the curtained door.

  Behind me I could hear Jasper gasp, and then Tommy cut loose with a screech of a laugh — and a chair scraped sharply against the floor. Theo had stood up, I guessed. But he didn’t run after me ranting, and he didn’t chuck the chair at the back of my head, which was what I fully expected.

  “Lovely place you’ve got here,” I said to the hostess/emcee as I paid the bar tab for me and Tommy, meaning Tommy.

  “You got the Dr Pepper, too?”

  “Oh hell yes.”

  There was only one drawback to the way this evening had gone—I couldn’t be there to see Theo’s reaction, or to hear how he explained me to Madison, et al.

  Even so, as I sat in a taxi taking me back to Rebecca’s, I could not stop smiling.

  Chapter 12

  Rude Awakening

  Theo

  The apartment was dark when I got in. Jeff was already asleep on the sofa bed. That miserable little reptile.

  And why wasn’t he wearing a tee shirt? I thought he was going to wear tee shirts and shorts to bed now.

  “Hey!” I said, kicking the bed. He didn’t budge. So I went around the other side of the bed. “Hey!” From there, I could kick him. “Hey!”

  “What the—Jesus!” He sat up. I snapped on the lamp, and he shielded his eyes.

  “You!” I said, still kicking. “You turd-ball! You scum-wad!”

  “Stop kicking me!”

  “No!”


  He grabbed my ankle, which I should have seen coming, but I didn’t, and because I didn’t, when I went to pull my foot back to kick him again, I couldn’t. I lost my balance, and I didn’t have an extra foot with which to catch my balance and—bam—my ass hit the floor but hard. Butt hard.

  “Let go of my foot!” He had both hands on my ankle and I couldn’t yank it away from him.

  “Are you going to stop kicking me?” he yelled back.

  “No!”

  “Well then…”

  The overhead light came on, and there was Rebecca.

  “What is wrong with you guys?”

  “It’s his fault,” I said from the floor, pointing, in case there was any confusion.

  “My fault?”

  “You started it.”

  “For the love of—”

  “I was sound asleep, in point of fact, until you kicked me!”

  “Which you deserved, and you know it!” I was still on the floor, and he was still holding my foot—so I pulled my other foot up so I could kick him with that one.“What did I do?” He pushed both feet off the bed.

  “What did you do? ‘I’ll see you at home, Tiger,’” I mimicked back at him.

  “Oh yeah, that.” He was smiling, maybe even snickering to himself. At least I could stand up. Man my right hip was going to have giganto bruise.

  “You—ass-hat!” I stood back up, rubbing my sore butt.

  “What is all this about???”

  “This nimrod was at my showcase tonight!”

  “Oh yeah!” she said, remembering, and still sleepy. “How’d that go?”

  “It went pretty well, actually,” I said, pleased, before I remembered the half-naked jackass sitting up in my bed. “But he was there!”

  “What were you doing there?” asked Rebecca.

  “Why does everybody keep asking me that? I went to be nice!”

  “No, seriously, Jeffrey, why were you there?”

  “Temporary insanity, apparently! But I went there to be supportive. Honest.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Clearly the biggest mistake in my life. This is what I get for being a nice guy.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Theo. “This slimeball kissed me in front of everybody.”