Jason looked hard through his teary eyes at the director. "I want to quit."
"Final answer?" Jericho asked, pulling his words from the popular television game show. "Because I'll tell you right now, there's no turning back from your decision. If you walk out, I won't be bringing you back tomorrow, or ever." Jericho looked callously at the actor.
"Yes," said Jason. "I quit."
"I never want to see you in my theater again, you got that? Ever!" Jericho turned on his heels and then turned back. "I need a written letter on my desk before tonight's show."
Jason pulled an envelope out of his inner jacket pocket. "Here," he said.
Jericho ripped open the envelope, pulled out the letter, and scanned the two short lines of pat resignation language. He gave Jason Arrows one more disgusted scowl and headed back toward the theater. It took all his energy not to run and skip. Jericho was thrilled to have an opportunity to further advance Billy's career. He felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t actually slept with Billy. There would be less opportunity for others to hold this promotion against the kid.
By the time he'd reached the end of Schubert Alley he had a conference call going with the Dance Captain and stage manager, Nancy Ann. "Does he know the part?" Jericho barked into the phone as he reached the stage door where the people he was talking to stood smoking.
All three closed their phones. "Jericho, what happened?" Nancy Ann asked. She had her notebook poised, pen in hand, ready for her leader's commands.
"Doesn't matter. I can tell you that the son-of-a-bitch isn't dead, but I wish he were. Is he here yet?"
"Who?" asked the Dance Captain.
"Billy," barked Jericho.
"Behind you," said Nancy Ann.
"What?" asked Jericho. He looked at Nancy Ann like he'd never seen her before.
"Here, he's coming up behind you, right now." She physically turned Jericho toward Billy.
"Come with us." The quartet rushed into the theater, down a flight of stairs, and into Jericho's office. Jericho pulled out a smoke. "Sorry, Nancy Ann, run back upstairs and let the guy on the door know that Jason Arrows is never allowed in this theater again. Ever!"
"You got it, boss." The young woman sprinted from the room and was back before Jericho had lit his cigarette.
"Okay, Mr. Lake," said Jericho, "I've got a very important question for you. It's going to change all of our lives. Have you learned Billy Lawler or not?"
All the eyes in the room bore into Billy. Even his own bore into him as he looked from face to face and into the mirror behind them at himself. Billy could feel the excitement of what he was about to hear building in him. He was going on tonight. Arrows was out. If he did well, he'd be the second male lead in this show, his first Broadway show. He'd go on tonight an unknown and come off that stage either a star or a fired chorus boy. It was as if the plot of 42nd Street was playing out in real time, only with a boy getting the break instead of the girl. If he did well, Billy Lake instinctively knew, he would become the toast of Manhattan. He finally answered: "Of course I know the role. Inside and out. It was my job, right?" Silently in his head he tried to remember the first line Billy Lawler spoke, but couldn't.
"Thank God for the Midwest work ethic," said Jericho to the room at large, to God himself. He'd never be able to explain it, but it was at that very moment that Jericho knew, he felt it, that Billy would do it, that he could perform this role perfectly. It was as if this was the kid's role all along and he just needed a prompt to get him into the costume and saying the words. "All right, tell me, honestly, is there any scene or dance that you don't feel confident about?" Jericho asked; his tone was calmer, his hand rested on Billy's arm.
"I've never kissed Angie. We've always laughed during rehearsals at those moments." Billy felt the burn of a rising blush around his neck.
"Nancy Ann, get the head costumer, shit I can't think of her name." No one in the room offered. "We've got to get the boy fitted into the costumes. I need all the department heads down here. We need to let Angie know what's going on. The rest of the company, too, but Angie first. We can run that kissing scene down here in my office." He thought for a moment. "What are you waiting for Nancy Ann? Go!"
"Are all the keys okay for you?" Nancy Ann asked Billy.
"Um," the boy quickly ran through the show in his head. "Yes, they all work." He was a solid tenor, he had height, depth, and vibrato when required, thanks to Mr. Cox, his high school choral director and voice teacher.
"Okay, I need you to assemble the company on stage at the hour." Jericho said to Nancy Ann before she left the room. “I'd love for no one to know before then, although I also know that's probably a pipe dream."
The stage manager once again burst from the room. Within moments she returned to Jericho’s office with the costume mistress.
The room was silent.
"Jericho," Nancy Ann reappeared at his side. "We've cleared out the personal stuff from Arrows' dressing room. Let's move Billy in there for his costume fitting.
"Fine," said Jericho and she left the room with costume head and Billy following her.
For the first time since this train wreck began, Jericho was alone. He took a deep breath and let it out. His heart raced. He pulled a cigarette from the pack, looked at it for a long moment, and tossed it, unlit, on his desk. "Can Billy really do it?" he asked the air. They'd spent almost no time together on the part; Jericho had left that up to his stage manager and Dance Captain. Sure, Billy could dance, but could he really act the part? The role of Billy Lawlor takes more than just charm and good looks. It has to be sincere and believable without being sappy. Jericho didn't know if Billy could do it. He was so young, so inexperienced. Absently, Jericho picked up the cigarette and lit it.
* * *
For the next thirty minutes, while Billy was fitted into his new costumes in his own dressing room, Jericho and Nancy Ann covered every detail, from lighting changes to getting Billy's name up on the understudy board.
At five minutes before the hour call, the director and stage manager were alone. "Do you think the boy can do it?" He showed a moment of fear to the only person he could share such feelings with in the theater. He and Nancy Ann had been working together for nearly a decade. Jericho never opened a show without her.
Nancy Ann rolled her chair closer to her boss and friend. "I can tell you the kid can not only do this, but that he's actually better, a lot better than Arrows. He's got that youthful charm and he's gorgeous."
The colleagues looked at each other. Jericho couldn't help but smile because of Nancy Ann's sincere look. In that moment, because of her, Jericho again felt that everything that night would be fine. Unlike his moment with God earlier, if the stage manager said everything would be fine, that the kid was right for the role, he knew that would be the case, or at least felt a little better about it. Not to belittle God for any reason, but good stage managers know their shows and, as anyone and everyone who have ever worked on stage will tell you, the stage manager is God.
Now, you might wonder why a preview is so important. After all, the major press isn't allowed to write about the show until it officially opens. And, if you've ever done high school or college shows, previews tend to be disastrous anyway. But, on Broadway, the first preview really is treated like opening night. The mistakes and disasters of getting the show up and running are, for most shows, all worked out during the dress and technical rehearsals, weeks before the previews.
The reason Broadway previews are so important is word of mouth. Word of mouth during the preview run determines advance ticket sales. And, with social media and blogging, previews are reviewed and dissected long before opening night. There's always someone who sneaks out a recording via their cell phone and posts it on YouTube. It's to be expected, even though detested. It's how things work today. All of that decides and alters the critics' opinion of a show before they even see it.
"Okay, Nancy Ann. I want to talk to the company at the top of the hour. They'll have a pre
tty good gossip buzz going. I want the boy in his own dressing room, not in with the company. Before that, can you get one of your team to empty out Arrows' personal shit, I don't want the boy to—"
"That part's done, boss. Remember?" she asked with a smile, her pen poised as always over her note pad.
Jericho felt confused for a moment. Rather than try to figure it out, he moved forward with his thoughts. "Excellent. Okay, so talk, company gossip, boy in his room, half hour call, and then I'm going to spend about ten minutes with him." Jericho thought. Nancy Ann remained poised for more instructions. "Got it. Take Angie in. Have them work quickly through a scene or two, but very fast, and get the two to kiss. You know what I want, that romantic, forty's style, lips only kiss. Let's see if the energy of the moment won't take the giggle out of the two of them." Again, Jericho contemplated the moment. "Yep, that's it. I'm not wearing a headset, I don't want to hear the frantic energy. I do have my phone if you need me. Okay, get Angie in with Billy and get the company assembled on stage so we can share the good news."
"Good news?"
"Yeah, Billy is perfect for this role. Arrows is an asshole all of us hated. Have you ever had a better experience on opening night? It's like we're living out the story of 42nd Street, without all the extra drama or rehearsals." Jericho stood. Nancy Ann followed his lead and the two hugged. "It's gonna be great. Just be sure to have assistants with scripts following him from both sides of the stage. Don't tell him they're there for him, but have them ready to offer a line or direction if it's absolutely necessary."
* * *
Billy Lake sat alone in Star Dressing Room #4. His name was on the door. It wasn't a fancy, engraved nameplate like the other stars. Someone had written his name in permanent marker on a wide piece of masking tape and placed it on the door. Even in that primitive state, the magic-markered tape with his name gave him chills when he was ushered into the dressing room.
When he’d entered, his heart pounded in excitement and anticipation. He expected to see all of Arrows personal photos and belongings. That wasn't the case. His own small makeup box and the two photos he always hung: one was Ethel Merman’s headshot signed to some other Billy long ago; and, the other, a picture of him in costume, backstage after his final, senior year production of Pippin, with him in the lead role and his family standing proudly behind him.
He lit a cigarette and looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Well, kid, you wanted a chance at Broadway. Here it is." He smiled at himself and looked at his costumes on the rack. He quickly dressed in the lovely linen suit. The costume crew was wonderful and everything fit perfect. He tried on the straw hat. It was just a bit too big on him. He made a mental note to keep it either in hand or shoved back a bit in a caviler style. He knew he'd have a dresser to help him, but he liked being dressed early.
He sat, whipping through script pages, one after another, running lines, songs, and scenes in his head. Was he ready they asked? I learned the entire fucking show! But, now I have to pull out only my own lines…
"Come in," he said to the knock at the door.
"Billy, how wonderful and exciting," Angie said. She rushed to Billy and hugged him. Angie wasn't dressed in costume yet. Instead, she wore a floor-length dressing gown. Her severe makeup and bobby-pinned pin curls would have startled those on the street. Billy knew that her head was ready for a wig, her makeup designed to project her eyes all the way to the top balcony. Without warning, she kissed him hard. Her tongue darted into the startled man's mouth. It only took a moment and he kissed her back.
"Wow! If that's how you Broadway folks congratulate understudies I can't wait to visit the chorus boy dressing room," Billy said with a warm smile once their embrace ended.
"Not bad for a gay boy," Angie said, checking her lipstick in the mirror. She flashed Billy a smile via her reflection.
"Thanks, I think," he said to her playfully.
"Listen, they said they wanted me to come in here and run some lines with you. I'm pretty sure they're just getting the two of us out of the way while they tell the company about what's going on." Angie looked at the autographed Ethel Merman photo. "Did you really know her? Are you Dorian Grey? That would certainly explain the good looks." Angie pulled a cigarette from the pack on the counter and waited for Billy to light it.
"Oh, no. I got that picture as a joke gift from my high school friends. It was my junior year. Someone in the cast of Rainmaker found it on EBay." He lit Angie's cigarette.
"Gotta love EBay," she said, turning back to her co-star. "Listen, Billy, I've got to get back to my dressing room." She took a long drag from the cigarette and tossed it into the nearby sink. "A woman's hair and makeup is never finished.” Angie placed her hand on Billy's arm. “Listen, Doll, if you need any help during the show, especially in any of the scenes we share, just give me a look of desperation and I'll do whatever I can for you."
"Thanks, Angie," he said with a smile.
They might all have questions about him, but he knew beyond a doubt that he'd be terrific tonight. The only thing he'd miss by being promoted so quickly was being in the "Money" number. He loved tap dancing on those big coins. It was his favorite part of the show. He wondered if there was a way to turn that number into a Billy Lawler feature?
"Come in," he said to the knock at the door.
"Hey, Billy," said Nancy Ann.
"Hi.”
"Is there anything you need or want? Can I bring you anything?"
"Water. I really need a bottle of water," said Billy. "And, my hat's a little too big." He put the straw hat on his head and showed her how it covered his ears and forehead. They both laughed.
Nancy Ann walked up next to him and bent down. She opened a small fridge under the dressing counter and took out a bottle of water. Before she closed the door she made sure Billy saw that it was there. As she placed the bottle on the dressing table in front of him she noticed a hint of red creeping out of his shirt. She loved that Billy blushed so easily and looked forward to making fun of him for it in the future. Tonight was too important to take the chance of making the man self conscious.
"Thanks," Billy whispered. "That was like magic."
"Viola! Anything else I can make appear for you? A bunny perhaps or a long string of handkerchiefs from out of my sleeve?"
"A hat?" said the actor.
"That'll take a little more than slight of hand, but I'll have one for you." She smiled at the actor, pulled out a tape measure, wrapped it around his head, and made a note on her pad. "Okay. Listen, if you need anything you can ask me or any of the backstage crew. Everyone is on your side tonight, ready to help you with anything you might need."
"Gosh, thanks, Nancy Ann."
The two smiled at each other. They'd developed a nice friendship over cigarettes and coffee during rehearsals. Billy stood up. "I would like one more thing," he said.
"What's that?"
"A big hug."
The two hugged for a long moment until the watch around Nancy Ann's neck buzzed. She pulled back from Billy, moved the mouthpiece of her headset from the top of her head to in front of her mouth, and pressed the pack on her side. "Half hour," she said. "Half hour to curtain." Her voice was in stereo in Billy's dressing room between the amplified and live versions.
"Come in," Billy said to the knock at the door.
The stage manager left the room. As she passed Jericho she whispered, "He's going to be great." She'd forgotten to turn off her microphone and her reassurance went over the headset to everyone. Nancy Ann hid her own blush by leaving the room.
"Well my boy," Jericho said in a quiet, even voice as he entered and closed the door behind him, "looks like you're about to make some history."
"Jericho, I really am prepared for this. I would never let you down." Billy's serious eyes spoke volumes to Jericho.
"I know it." Jericho had prepared a whole speech. He was ready to boost and support the guy. It was a scene he'd dreamed of all of his career, a speech he'd prepared and nur
tured over the years. But, Billy didn't need it. He thought about moving forward, talking about making him the second lead, about putting his name on the marquee, about the money and fame. But, he didn't. There would be time for that later if Billy needed it. The moment was perfect as it was. "Is there anything you need from me or anyone else? Trust me; everyone in the entire company is at your disposal."
Billy was feeling great about what was happening to him, yet he also felt incredibly lonely at the same time. He wished his parents could be there to see him, or his friends from high school. Or, anyone from back home. He wished he had a boyfriend, or that Jericho was his lover. But, here he was alone in this new world.
"Come here," said Jericho, moving toward the boy. The director wrapped his arms around Billy. They hugged for a long moment. A brief reassurance that Billy wasn't actually alone in the world, he was connected to the experience in real time, and that he was loved. "You're gonna be great, kid," Jericho whispered in the boy's ear. "Just remember, deep down, to have fun. Billy is a charmer and so are you. It's like you were made for this role and now, it's yours."
"Stop, or I'll cry and run all this mascara down my face," Billy said giving Jericho a playful push away from him.
The two men lightly slapped each other's backs as the speaker in the room blurted out "fifteen minutes to places."
"Okay," said Jericho. "I've got to get up to my perch." He stood for a moment longer and looked at the boy. He wanted to remember this moment forever. He knew it was important for both of them.
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