Chapter 11: The Play's the Thing

Four weeks, you rehearse and rehearse.
Three weeks, and it couldn't be worse.
One week, will it ever be right?...

(From Cole Porter's Kiss Me, Kate)

Cole Porter got that right. The last month had been a constant barrage of problems, questions, script changes, rehearsals, late nights building the set, getting the lights mounted and aimed, and all the other things that are involved in staging a show.

It was Thursday night, a week before opening, and we had a Friday night off. Mr. Franks told us to take a long weekend and be ready to hit it hard on Monday. Beth and I headed for our favorite pizza place.

The Pizza Palace was a little place in one of the other 'burbs close to us and it had the best pizza in town—at least we thought so. One thing we liked is it didn't have the fake Italian look that so many places go for—it was just a nice, cozy place with great food, oh, and one of the best sound systems I've heard, certainly better than most places where people think loud equals good.

Beth stopped to talk to George, the manager, as Jeanie, our favorite waitress, took me back to a corner booth. She had a little grin on her face, "I figured you'd like to be in a quiet spot, so you could talk." I knew I liked her for a reason.

Beth walked back just as Miles Davis started blowing softly in the background—Beth's taste for the classics extended beyond her love of old movies, and I wasn't going to argue—my dad's a jazz fan and I'd been listening to it my whole life.

As we tried to decompress after rehearsals we had our usual discussion over what kind of pizza to order.

"Sausage, pepperoni and onion," Beth said without even opening the menu.

"Um, the sausage and pepperoni are alright, but can we do without the onions this time?"

"I like onions. If you don't want onions why don't we order half with and half without?" Beth suggested.

"Won't work. Just order the whole thing with onions."

"Tommy if you don't like onions why get it on your half?"

"It's not that I don't like onions, I just thought getting it without it for a change ... Besides, if you're getting onions, I'm getting onions."

"Why?"

"Self-defense, of course," I grinned at her.

"Self-defense?" I could see the confusion in her eyes.

"Yup. You ever try kissing someone with onion-breath if you haven't been eating them too?"

Beth just giggled as Jeanie came back with two Cokes. Does it mean you've been to a place too often when they don't even have to ask you what you want to drink?

"What do you two want tonight? I mean to eat," she said with a grin.

Beth blushed a little, "How about a large sausage, pepperoni and onion, Jeanie."

"It's a good thing you're both having the same thing," she quipped as she headed for the kitchen. I just grinned some more—Jeanie understood.

"Is it always like this? I never had any idea the work that goes into a show, and now we've only got three more rehearsals left and nothing's right yet!" Beth was really getting into the show. She'd been working with Julie and spending time helping the crew get the set done.

"Yeah, it's usually like this. Wait 'til the musical next spring, that's this times ten."

"And you call this fun?"

"Sure," I replied. "Can you sit there and tell me you're not having fun?"

"Me? I'm having a blast! But will everything really be done by Thursday night?"

"They better be! Mr. Franks hasn't let a show bomb yet."

Eventually the pizza came and we sat and ate and talked for a long time. Jeanie came back several times to make sure our Cokes were full and always made sure to make some noise before she came around the corner. There are advantages to being a regular, I guess.

Monday was the first full tech rehearsal—lights, sets, costumes, the whole show.

As I walked into the theater I saw a guy standing in the back with a pro video camera and tripod, both with the logo of the local religious broadcasting station.

"Can I help you? The show doesn't open until Thursday and we normally don't let anybody watch rehearsals."

"Oh, hi, I'm Ron Cooper, Julie's brother and I was hoping it would be okay to tape the rehearsal so our folks can see it."

We usually got a request like this for every show, although usually for a performance night, not a rehearsal. "I suppose it would be okay, but you'd have to setup back here. Mr. Franks doesn't like people moving around, it distracts the cast."

"Back here's no problem," Ron said as he took the camera and mounted it on the tripod. Since he seemed to know what he was doing, I left him to it.

I went backstage where Mr. Franks was giving the cast a last-minute pep talk. "Alright people, we're going to do three full runs today—no stopping, if you drop a line I'm not going to prompt you, you'll have to cover on your own. I'll be saving my notes until after we're done with each run."

I should have told him about Julie's brother, but it slipped my mind.

Tuesday afternoon we all got to the theater only to have Mr. Franks drop a bomb on the whole group. "I don't know how to break this to you gently, but we've got a problem: Julie Cooper's parents went to the superintendant yesterday and demanded we cancel the show. It seems they saw a tape of one of our rehearsals and they're objecting to doing a play that includes witches or anything supernatural or un-Christian.

"Mrs. Gardner, the superintendant, refused to cancel, and Julie's parents pulled her from the show. At this point, I only see two choices—cancel the run or have someone go on with a script and read Julie's lines."

Time to throw myself on my sword. I stood up, "Mr. Franks, I think I know what happened. I let Julie's brother tape yesterday's rehearsal. I should have mentioned it to you. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Tommy. Nothing we can do about that now, but we're going to have to re-think our recording rules. Now, however, would anyone be willing to stand in for Julie?"

I glanced at Beth and saw her shaking her head. She knew what I was thinking—since she'd helped Julie learn her lines, she'd be the obvious choice.

"Tommy, I couldn't go on stage in front of all those people! I just can't do it!" She was looking like she was going to start sobbing and was shaking like a leaf in a force five gale.

I pulled her into a hug, "Beth, can you at least fill in for today's rehearsal? There won't be anyone watching and it'd really help the rest of the cast. Please?"

"Oh, God, how do I let you talk me into these things?"

As the rehearsal started, I could see Beth's nervousness as she stammered over an occasional line, but as we progressed the nerves seemed to disappear as she got into the character of the hill girl, Barbra Allen. And never once did she refer to the script—she had the part down cold.

Wednesday before the rehearsal I sauntered up to Mr. Franks, "Um, what do you think of having Beth try on Julie's costume?"

"Mr. Randahl, are you trying to pull something here?" He said with a little grin.

"No, honest. I just noticed that Beth went through all three runs yesterday without referring to the script and I thought that if she was in costume and could really FEEL like Barbra Allen ... well ... maybe..."

Mr. Franks gave me a piercing look. "Maybe she'd be willing to stand in for the performances? Isn't that kind of a nasty thing to do to your shy girlfriend?"

I blushed a bit, "Well, yeah, maybe. But I don't think she's as shy as she used to be and maybe doing the part for real would help her loosen up and realize how much she's missing."

He looked at me, "I never thought of you as a devious person ... before this. But let's see if she'll try it."

The second run was amazing. As soon as Beth got into the costume she WAS the character—not a line dropped, all her movements and mannerisms spot on, it was almost spooky to see her become Barbra Allen. I mean, I'd been involved with the theater since my freshman year but her transformation gave me goose bumps.

"Oh, God, that was exciting!" Beth ran up to me as soon as I got backstage after the third and final run-through. "I FELT just like her! I-I can't explain it, I BECAME Barbra Allen. I knew how she thought. I knew why she did the things she did. It was amazing!"

Tony, the senior who was playing John, the other lead, came up, "Beth that was great! You had me convinced. Um," —here it comes, I thought to myself— "So do you think you could do it tomorrow night, too?" I crossed my fingers.

"You mean for real? In front of an audience?" I could see the old Beth trying to incite a panic attack. "You know ... I think I could ... Should I do it, Tommy?"

"The new Beth can do anything. Remember the girl in the mirror? She wouldn't think twice. Go for it!" I gave her a big hug and a kiss.

She went back to talk to Mr. Franks. Afterwards he shot me a big smile and a wink. Beth was in the show!

After rehearsal we were walking out to my car when Cindy ran up, "Beth are you really going to do it? Are you really going to get up in front of all those people?"

Beth got a look as if she just realized what she'd gotten herself into, "Yeah, Cindy, it looks like I am."

"Girl, you're braver than I am."

At that moment I could have killed Cindy, and I'll bet any jury would acquit me.

By the time we got to her house, Beth was having second thoughts. As we walked up the stairs to her room she hugged me, "Tommy, I'm scared." I wrapped my arms around her and could feel her shaking. My princess was building herself up to a major attack of nerves.

"Beth, just forget about it for a while. Look do you trust me?" I could see her thinking back to the first time I'd asked that.

"Are you going to ask me for my camera again?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind seeing you in that bikini—all stretched out on your bed. Do you have any idea what that suit did to me?"

She giggled, "Yeah, I remember." She rubbed her pelvis against mine, "And it seems thinking about it's affecting you the same way now."