A Christmas Peril (6 page)

Terror mounted like a tidal wave,
threatening to drown me. The audience’s applause dissolved into an
angry roaring. My heart pounded in my chest like a petrified
animal. Blindly, I fled the backstage, dropping my clipboard and
tearing off my headset as I dashed into my office. Slamming the
door, I crouched on the floor and covered my head with my
arms.

Take deep breaths, I muttered to
myself. Deep, slow breaths. I focused on my breathing, inhaling and
exhaling through pursed lips. Eventually, the familiar, dusty scent
of the room calmed me. My heart rate slowed, and the panic
gradually ebbed like a polluted tide.

Shakily, I got to my feet and drank
down the bottle of water sitting on my desk. I’d been jumpy all
night, but my onstage fantasy had shoved me into a full-blown
anxiety attack. I hadn’t suffered one this severe in three weeks, a
new personal best. Five months ago, the spells had struck as often
as twice a day, crippling me to the point where I was afraid to
leave my own house. But when Charles Corning had convinced me to
sign on as his stage manager, I’d started to get a handle on my
fears. In part because I was distracted by the demands of the play,
and in part because being backstage was as comforting to me as
being in bed with the covers pulled over my head. Unfortunately,
tonight’s episode demonstrated that, although I’d improved, panic
could still ambush me.

By now, the cast had finished their
curtain calls and were exiting the stage. Their babbling voices
filled the back hallway. Feeling steadier, I joined
them.

“
Cassandra! There you
are.” Luckily, Andrew was so juiced up by all the applause that he
didn’t notice my disheveled state. He grabbed me around the waist,
picked me up, and spun me in a circle. He’s a slender guy and I’m
no bag of feathers, yet he lifted me effortlessly.

“
You were awesome,” I told
him.

“
You rocked it, too,
Madame Stage Manager.” He set me down and kissed my
forehead.

“
Thanks, but anyone could
have done my job.” I eyed Tabitha who was unbuttoning the white,
Victorian nightgown she’d worn in the last act. If not for the
unpredictable panic attacks, I would have made a terrific Lucy
Seward.

“
Don’t be so modest,”
Andrew said. “No one but you could have kept this many egos in
check. How about I buy you a drink at the Lamplighter?”

I smiled for real. “It sounds like a
date.”

The Bleak Street was a very tiny
theater. Its dressing rooms were hardly larger than closet-sized
restrooms, and Charles had claimed the greenroom for his office.
With nowhere but the hallway to change, the actors had lost their
modesty months before. Andrew stripped off the black suit he’d worn
and stood in his boxers. Despite his slim build, he had a terrific
set of abs. With his thick, brown hair, long lashes, and dark eyes,
the guy was heartbreakingly beautiful. Too bad he was also
decidedly gay.

Andrew sat at a rickety folding table
and turned on his lighted mirror. “Maybe one of these days, I’ll
rank a real dressing room.”

Everyone in the cast and crew
complained about the Bleak Street. Well, everyone but me. Yes, the
carpeting was threadbare, the heat worked sporadically, and the
roof leaked in multiple places. But underneath was a grand old
theater that boasted a hundred years of performances. With all its
history, I thought of the Bleak Street as a sacred place where
actors were priests performing the rites of theater, and the
audience was the congregation who came to worship the spirit of
drama. Not that I’d admit it to anyone. Even Andrew would have
teased me if he’d found out.

Andrew moaned when he saw his
reflection in the makeup mirror. The stress of the final
performance had taken its toll, and he’d sweated heavily under the
hot lights. Despite the new foundation I’d recommended, his face
was shiny. “You think anyone noticed?” he asked.

“
No,” I assured him. I
picked up the clipboard and headset that I’d thrown on the floor
when I’d dashed backstage. “I’m sure they were all too distracted
by your gorgy-ness to pay attention.”

He laughed, surprised. “My
gorgy-ness?”

I shook my head. Andrew never gave
himself enough credit. Any other man graced with a face and body
like his would have considered himself godlike. “You are gorgeous.
Trust me.”

Tabitha took a seat next to him.
“She’s right, darling. You’re beautiful.” She smiled at Andrew then
glared at me. “Cassie, my cue was off in the third act.”

Lighting issues were another of the
Bleak Street’s quirks. For some reason, the eerie, red spotlight
that should have begun the third act had come on twenty-five
seconds late. Twenty-five seconds may not sound like much, but to
an audience waiting in the pitch black, it must have felt like
forever.

Tabitha jutted her chin at my
clipboard. “You made a note of it, right?”

“
It’s our last
performance,” I reminded her, “so no notes.”

She grabbed a fistful of
make-up removing wipes and rolled her eyes. “This was the worst
piece of garbage I’ve ever appeared in. And that includes my high
school’s god-awful production of
Cats
.”

Unfortunately, Tabby was
right. The play,
County Dracula,
had been dreadful. As always, Charles’s direction
was top-notch, but the script, a rewrite of Bram Stoker’s classic
vampire story, was appalling.
County
Dracula
was set in Polk County, Iowa,
during the depression of the 1920’s, and it told the story of a
traveling salesman vampire who falls in love with the innocent
daughter of a country doctor. If the play had been a farce, we
might have gotten away with it. Unfortunately, it was meant to be
an earnest commentary on the Hoover administration, socialism, and
the effects of the Dust Bowl. The only reason it had been staged in
the first place was because the owner of the Bleak Street Theatre
had wanted it. Since Charles was indebted to the Bleak Street’s
owner, he always directed whatever she ordered him to. No matter
how crappy the script.

“
Well, Andrew
did
get a good mention
in
The Detroit News
,” I said. I patted my friend’s shoulder. “The reviewer said
because of him, ‘the play was merely terrible instead of a ghastly
failure.’” Coming from Tom Wiggins, a notoriously crotchety
reviewer, this was high praise.

Tabby sniffed. “That’s only because
Wiggins is madly in love with Andrew.” She, of course, was jealous
since Wiggins had called her performance, ‘insipid and
mealy’.

Darryl Pitkin, who had played
Renfield, sidled up. Just like Dracula’s insane, fly-eating
servant, Darryl was a small, ratty man with a thick uni-brow and
tiny eyes. Although he’d been putting moves on all the women since
the first night of auditions, he was especially taken with Tabitha.
“Nice job tonight, Tabby. You really outdid yourself.”

She flipped her blond hair over her
shoulder, leaned closer to her mirror, and ignored him.

Darryl didn’t give up. “You know who
you remind me of? A really young Meryl Streep. I’m not
kidding.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

Sick of Darryl’s oily
advances, Tabitha got up without a word and went into the ladies’
room. Still, Darryl persisted. “She
does
remind me of Meryl Streep. You
guys see it, right?”

“
Give it up,” I said.
“She’s obviously not into you.”

His greasy smile returned. “Don’t be
jealous, Cassandra. There’s plenty of me to go around.”

“
That’s right, Cassie.
Darryl spreads like a rash,” Andrew said.

“
What the hell would you
know about it, gay boy?” Darryl pushed Andrew hard in the shoulder
and stalked off.

“
Idiot,” Andrew muttered.
He glared at his reflection in the mirror and began wiping off his
eyeliner. “I am so glad I don’t have to work with that jackass
anymore,” he said. “So
freaking
glad.”

Charles squeezed between a
pair of extras who were blocking the hallway. It was a relief to
see him smiling again. Although Charles was only five foot six, his
personality made him seem bigger. Or rather, more threatening. Over
the past five months, he had been a tyrant, and the closer we got
to opening night, the nastier he’d become. His gray eyes held such
a steely glare that even across a darkened theater, an actor could
feel it and stumble over his lines. But while Charles was demanding
and egotistical, he was also a damn fine director. Only he could
have salvaged something from a wreck of a script like
County Dracula
.

Holding onto Charles’s arm was a
beautiful, pale-skinned woman with scarlet lips and hair so black
it appeared to have blue highlights. She cut a regal figure. The
arch of her eyebrows and her cool smile conveyed confidence, even
haughtiness. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and wrist.

Charles gave Andrew an adoring smile.
“I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Miss Hedda
Widderstrom.”

So this was the owner of the Bleak
Street Theatre. I’d often wondered about the woman whose bronze
bust adorned the lobby. With her obdurate expression and thin
smile, the real Hedda appeared as cold and hard as the statue. Even
Charles seemed intimidated by her.

“
I enjoyed your
performance very much,” Hedda told Andrew.

Andrew dropped his gaze, as humble as
a geisha. “Thank you. But the entire cast and crew deserve
credit.”

“
My, my. Talent
and
modesty.” Hedda and
Charles laughed. “And beauty. Dear gods, is he stunning.” She
touched the underside of Andrew’s chin with her index finger. “You
outshone everyone on stage, my dear.” She dropped her hand and
glanced at Charles. “He’d make an exceptional partner.”

Somehow, Andrew managed to hang onto
his smile. “I already have a partner.”

Hedda’s eyes narrowed. “What do you
mean you already have a partner?”

Charles quickly said. “Boyfriend.
Andrew means he’s in a relationship.”

Hedda gave an ‘ah’ of understanding,
and her lips curved into a secret smile that gave me
chills.

Hedda moved closer. “Tell me, did you
like the play?”

Andrew tensed. Although he hated the
play as much as the rest of us, he answered carefully, fully aware
that the playwright was a close friend of Hedda’s. “I liked the
vampire’s soliloquy in the second act,” he finally said. So had
everyone else. It was the only part of the play worth a damn. “I
thought it turned the monster into a sympathetic
character.”

Hedda’s gaze sharpened.
“
Monster
? You
thought the vampire was monstrous?”

Charles cleared his throat. “I think
what Andrew is trying to say…”

Hedda cut her eyes at him. “I wasn’t
asking you.”

Charles, chagrinned, fell
back a step. Andrew and I exchanged smirks in the mirror. As much
as I liked and admired Charles, he’d put the cast and crew through
hell during rehearsals. A few nights ago, he’d bellowed that Andrew
was turning Dracula into, “a goddamned, prancing fairy queen.” It
was nice to see
him
humbled for once.

“
Well, usually Dracula is
considered a monster,” Andrew said, speaking carefully. “But in the
play, he explains that, although he’s changed physically, he hasn’t
lost his soul. He still admires music and art. He loves Lucy
Seward. In fact, he appreciates humans even more now that he no
longer is one.”

At this, I bit the insides
of my cheeks to keep from rolling my eyes. No amount of smooth
talking could hide the fact that
County
Dracula
was dreck. Hedda’s face relaxed,
however, and she nodded her approval. “Nicely said. You’ve summed
up the heart of the play perfectly.”

She became brisk. “Now then, Andrew,
let me explain why I’m here. I’m staging a brand-new show in six
weeks, and…”

Charles gave a start.
“What do you mean a new show? And in six weeks?
Julius Caesar
is due to open at the
end of January!”

Hedda didn’t spare him a
glance. “I’m cancelling
Julius
Caesar
.”

Charles ran his fingers through his
silver hair. “But this season was planned over a year ago. We’ve
already sold tickets, and I’ve begun casting! We can’t…”

She held up her hand, cutting him off.
“Now is not the time, Charles.” She turned her attention back to
Andrew. “As I was saying, I would like to invite you to audition
for the show.”

My pulse quickened. Before working at
the Bleak Street, I’d never heard of Hedda Widderstrom, but from
the hints Charles had dropped over the past few months, it was
clear that Miss Widderstrom had a great deal of influence in the
theater community. She didn’t just know the movers and shakers, she
had set them in motion to begin with. Catching Hedda’s eye was like
getting the ‘Advance to GO’ card in Monopoly. You might not win the
game because of it, but it would certainly put you ahead of
everyone else.