Almost Final Curtain (17 page)

“Um, yeah,” I said, waiting anxiously to see if she’d mention what time I’d come home. But then again, maybe she’d come in after me. I hadn’t seen her MINI when Elias dropped me off, had I?

“I’ll come in. We should have a little lunch.”

I smiled. Even though Parkers weren’t native Minnesotans, Mom meant “a little lunch” in the way people used that phrase around here, which meant a big spread. My stomach gave an anticipatory growl. “I’m starving.”

“I’ll make bacon.”

 

 

In a half hour, I sat down to the promised bacon, scrambled eggs with cream cheese (my favorite), fresh strawberries, orange juice, and a good, strong black tea (Mom wasn’t a coffee drinker). Once I’d devoured as much as my stomach could hold, I felt almost human again. Mom said very little while I stuffed my face, and I wondered what she knew. Did she know I’d been out all night with Elias? Could she tell that Dad had been here, past the wards? And that he’d asked me to spy on her, to find out what she knew about the talisman?

At the thought of the talisman, I swallowed wrong, nearly choking on the orange juice.

“Are you all right, Ana?” Mom had finished her brunch—or maybe it was lunner, lunch/dinner, given the hour. She sat watching me, the large, round glasses perched on her nose making her look like an owl.

“Fine,” I said much too defensively. Clearing my throat, I covered my mouth with a napkin as I tried to compose myself. “So, uh, how was esbat?”

Mom seemed surprised by the question. “Oh, the same as usual, I suppose.”

Was it me, or did she sound unconvincing? “You sure left early the other morning.”

“You certainly came in late last night.”

Damn. Checkmate.

Mom smirked like she knew she won that round, so I said with a casual shrug, “Yeah, Elias and the vampires were celebrating. They asked me to join them.” I squinted a little as I waited for her response. I figured I’d get a chewing out, given how much Mom hated Elias and the vampires.

When no rant was forthcoming, I hazarded a glance at Mom’s face. Her brows were knit together, but she seemed less mad than curious. “Celebrating? Really? What exactly?”

“The end of the world as they know it.” I’d meant that to come out more sly, but a note of sadness crept in.

She might have had a response, but my phone trilled. It was a text from Taylor. “U coming? Starts in ten.”

“Oh crap!” I jumped up, wishing I’d had time to take a bath or at least comb my hair. “I’ve got to go. Callbacks are starting!”

“You got a callback for the musical? That’s lovely, dear.” Mom was getting up, and gathering her purse and keys. “I’ll give you a ride and we can continue this interesting conversation.”

So I was stuck with Mom, which was a good/bad thing. She was certainly acting suspicious. Normal Mom would have given me an earful for staying out with Elias, but it turned out I wasn’t so good at weaseling information out of people. I hoped that didn’t mean my acting abilities were slipping, especially with a second audition looming.

When I headed for the front, Mom waved me to the back door. I discovered she’d parked the MINI in the alley. We had a mostly abandoned carriage house with a barely there paved space behind it, but she’d never used it once we got the fancy MINI. She always said that even as small as the MINI was, she feared people would hit it or steal it. As I waited in the alley for her to back it out, my eyes lit on the windows of the top floor of the carriage house. The curtain moved.

Was someone up there?

“Do we have a guest?” I asked as I buckled in. Sometimes when visiting witches came to town, Mom put them up there, since it was private and had all the amenities of a small guesthouse.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“I thought I saw someone in the carriage house,” I said.

“I’m sure you were just imagining it,” she said, which made me instantly suspicious. Because Mom refused to rent to mundanes—we couldn’t have them accidentally seeing us practice True Witchcraft, after all!—she periodically worried about squatters. No, rephrase that—she was unbelievably
paranoid
about squatters.

For her to dismiss my concern so quickly could mean only one thing.

Now the real question became, who was it? And why didn’t Mom want me to know they were staying there? Could it be that the person who had the talisman was right in my own backyard?

My stomach tightened.

“Now, what’s this about the end of the world?” Mom was saying as we turned out onto the street. “You know that whole Mayan calendar thing is a hoax, right?”

“Elias is worried about his freedom,” I said boldly. I thought maybe if I told a bit of the truth, she might give something more away. “He seems to think it might go away.”

“Why would he think that?” Her voice was all professorial, as if she was fishing for a specific answer.

Damn. She was good at this cat-and-spy thing. I shrugged and averted my eyes by looking out the window. Even though I clearly needed the practice, I didn’t think I could lie convincingly right now. “Because . . .” Should I tell her what I knew? “I don’t know.”

We rolled through the residential streets, Mom slowing at every intersection. “So, he didn’t tell you?”

Was she about to reveal that she had the talisman? I tried to keep the interest out of my voice. “Tell me what?”

“Why he thought he was going to lose his freedom.”

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Oh. No, he didn’t.”

Mom frowned at the windshield. “Well, that’s not very helpful.”

“No, it isn’t,” I agreed.

 

 

This time the number of people loitering around the atrium in front of the main theater doors seemed much more typical. It was empty expect for Taylor and Lane, who stood over by the lockers, their heads bent together over a script page. Seeing me come in, Taylor looked relieved. “You made it!”

“Mr. Martinez has only just started,” Lane agreed. They scurried over to me. “We should probably go in. He’s going to lock the doors in a couple of minutes.”

It was standard practice to keep the riffraff and stragglers out, but it made me hurry to think I’d almost defaulted on a possible role.

We pulled the doors open quietly. Inside, the houselights had been dimmed. A single circle of light gleamed center stage. The three of us shared a glance. This wasn’t the informal system we were used to. Mr. Martinez had pulled out all the stops; it was hard enough to do callbacks, but to have to do it in a spotlight? That was harsh.

Mr. Martinez had taken the stage. We dashed to the first set of open seats. I could see the frizzy curl of Bea’s hair a few rows up. She’d positioned herself next to Todd, the assistant director. It was the suck-up spot, but it was also a dangerous gamble. If Todd found you too helpful, you could end up as another directorial assistant running gofer errands, and not in the show at all.

Mr. Martinez cleared his throat and the soft murmuring in the house dropped to dead silence. Because there were newbies to theater present, he explained how callbacks worked. Everyone would have a chance to perform something small. But when that was over, you needed to hang around. You might be asked back to the stage just to stand next to someone or say a line or two.

“Now it’s time to get started,” he said. Tipping his glasses up onto his head, he scanned the names on his clipboard. You could almost hear the collective breath being held. With a dramatic flourish, he scanned the room. “Ana Parker? Matthew Thompson?”

Oh God. First.

I took the script sheet Lane handed me, adrenaline spiking, as I made my way up the aisle to the stage. Thompson bounded up the other side, confident and smiling. I wanted to shake my head and tell him to wipe that grin off his face. Being first was the worst! You didn’t have a chance to assess everyone else’s performance, figure out the nuances they’d missed, and really do it right. Now we’d be the ones everyone else was riffing on and improving on.

Great.

Ah well, actually getting into this play was a pipe dream, anyway. I mean, I had two different-colored eyes. Eliza Doolittle and Ana Parker could not be more different. I had a better chance at being Mary Magdalene in
Jesus Christ Superstar
than getting this role.

By the time I stood next to Thompson, I’d talked myself out of about six other plays as well, and my shoulders dropped. Besides, my lucky shirt was in the hamper. In fact, I was still wearing my clothes from last night.

Thompson gave me a broad wink. I smiled back, but I was thinking what an unlikely pair we were. Neither of us was going to get a part. I might as well relax and have fun.

From the darkened house, Mr. Martinez told us where to start. Thompson wasn’t a polished actor by any stretch of the imagination, but he didn’t stumble over any words. In fact, there was a kind of raw sincerity to the way he spoke the lines that was sort of endearing. The scene Mr. Martinez had picked was one where Eliza and Professor Higgins are kind of flirty, but sort of not getting along too. It was easy for the two of us; in a way, that was already our relationship in real life.

He asked Thompson to stay onstage and sing a solo, which, to no one’s surprise this time, he totally nailed. Music, this boy could do.

I went back to my seat as directed. Taylor and Lane gave me the usual murmurs of encouragement, but I found myself feeling distant, removed. What if the talisman was activated today, like Elias feared? How would it happen? Would the vampires get returned to their masters one by one, or would it be some kind of instantaneous thing? Would it affect me at all? Would I just get up and walk away, compelled by some outside force?

Lane elbowed me in the ribs. At my confused look, he pointed to the stage. Had I been called? I pointed to my chest, and he nodded. I hurried back up the aisle. When I got there, I noticed I’d forgotten my script. Mr. Martinez sighed at my empty hands. “Could someone please loan Ana a script?”

Bea handed hers to Todd, who gave it to me. For the next ten minutes I read the same lines over and over with a number of different boys. First, there was Malcolm, one of the few black guys in our theater clique. I thought he might actually make a good lead; he was certainly arrogant enough to play Professor Higgins. Next up was Lane, who, IMHO, totally overacted. Some guy I didn’t know followed. He was pretty good except he flubbed a laugh line, and then Thompson was called again.

When he caught my eye, Thompson gave me a look that made me blush. It was sort of a secret smile, only just in his eyes, and it made me feel like he wanted more than just this part. I actually stammered the opening line that I’d just repeated a zillion times!

Thompson started speaking, and that simple, natural way he had with the lines drew me in. In a moment, the scene was over, and I was left staring up at Thompson again. “Thanks,” he whispered. “You always make that easier.”

Funny, I’d been thinking the same about him.

Now it was Thompson’s turn to stand up and read against the others. From my seat, I watched Bea flirt outrageously, Taylor look a bit frightened, and some of the other girls fall flat. While I watched the parade—and it definitely was, as there were far more girls than boys—I got a funny feeling at the back of my neck. My hairs stood on end.

I shivered.

Was it starting? Had someone activated the talisman?

As if expecting to see the goddess figure floating threateningly in the air, I glanced over my shoulder. Behind me sat a vampire. Okay, I couldn’t be certain that was what he was, but the boy—man, really—had an unearthly beauty. His skin was porcelain smooth, and he had deep, silky auburn hair.

“Do I know you?” I asked quietly.

He just shook his head and flashed a feral grin that glinted menacingly in the darkness. Mr. Martinez called Malcolm up to replace Thompson, and when I returned my attention to the vampire, he was gone.

It was like he’d disappeared. I couldn’t see a trace of him anywhere in the theater. Scanning the rafters, I almost missed being called up to read against Malcolm.

Our reading went okay—actually, in some ways I had a similar chemistry with Malcolm that I did with Thompson. Malcolm kind of irritated me, but he could be cute when he wasn’t being so full of himself. He didn’t make me flush or stammer, however. That, apparently, was a skill reserved for Thompson.

As I went back to my seat, I passed Bea. She looked up from whatever she was helping Todd with to give me a jealous sneer. I smiled back, trying to convey that she shouldn’t worry.

You could never tell with directors, after all. Sometimes it was very meaningful if you got a lot of stage time during callbacks. Other times, all it meant was that he’d already decided the leads and was having trouble filling the lower spots. Even though I’d been up against a lot of different guys, I was sure Mr. Martinez was just ruling me out for all the other roles. Seriously, Bea made such a better Eliza.

I wished I could tell her so. But she’d just think I was being patronizing.

After another half hour or so, Mr. Martinez thanked everyone for coming. He said his shtick about how everyone had done very well, and what a tough decision he had facing him—blah, blah. We all knew he’d already made up his mind, but he wasn’t going to tell anyone until the cast list went up on Monday.

The doors opened, and after the intense contrasts of the theater, even the fluorescents in the atrium seemed subdued and dull. It didn’t help that outside, the sky had clouded and a misty rain had begun to fall.

“Are you going to hang around this time, Ana?” Lane asked. “I thought a bunch of us might hit Chipotle for dinner and trash talk.”

It sounded good to me, honestly. I could use something normal for a change. I called Mom and let her know my plans and made sure she was cool about it. “Oh, yes,” she said, sounding strangely relieved. “Take your time. I’ll make something for myself here.”