Chapter 4

It was Monday of show week and all was madness. In other words everything was normal.

After school I walked into the theatre just in time to catch Beth and Cindy doing their duet of A Boy Like That/I Have a Love. Hearing the two girls singing the song from West Side Story was an interesting study in contrasts—Cindy as Anita, the fiery lover of the recently-stabbed Bernardo, and Beth as the sweet, innocent Maria.

Phil and Bob, the two new freshmen, turned out to be quick studies. They'd both been able to learn the ins and outs of running our board, how to patch the lights to the right channels on the board, and how to program the lighting changes so everything was ready to go for opening night.

Once we got the board set up, I'd been taking them through the show. I'd made up two extra copies of the script with the notes on the lighting cues Mr. Franks and I had decided on. They both were able to hit all the cues with no problem and that gave me more time to just watch the show, er, check for last minute lighting problems. Yeah, that's what I meant.

The rest of the week was more of the same, with last minute costume alterations, sound checks and all the rest of the details that go into a show. Then it was Friday, opening night and Beth had her usual case of pre-show jitters. "Oh, God, Tommy, why do I let you talk me into these things?"

"Who, me? It seems to me that you're the one who first mentioned auditions."

"Well, yeah, but you put the idea there."

"I did? How?"

"You used your ESP on me. I know you did!" Me? ESP? I didn't have any ESP abilities. If anyone did it was...

Eventually even I can figure out when my chain's being pulled—and my lady's an expert at pulling things.

"Beth, I'm going to tell you the same thing I've told you before: get into your costume and spend some time with the rest of the cast. Warm up and go out there and break a leg. Unless you want a spanking instead?" I dodged her elbow, gave her a big kiss, and walked back to the light booth to check on Phil and Bob.

"You guys ready to go?"

"Yeah!" They both answered with big grins. Let's see how long those last, I thought, evilly

"Have you decided yet?"

"Decided what?" Phil asked.

"Which one of you is going to run the board tonight."

"Who, us?" Bob looked ready to panic and head for the door.

"Yeah. There are four performances so that gives each of you two shows, but who's going first?" I was being just a little bit nasty springing this on them, but they'd both handled the board during rehearsals and I knew they could do it.

They fumbled around and finally Bob pulled a quarter out of his pocket. Phil won the toss and decided to get it out of the way and run tonight and Sunday's matinee and Bob would take both shows tomorrow. As Bob left to get on the follow spot I assured Phil that I'd be in the booth with him in case something went wrong. I thought back to the exploding lamp during last season's Music Man.

We did one final headset check and then the stage manager told Phil to take down the house lights and we were off. This was the first time since my freshman year that I wasn't involved in actually handling the lights in some way and it gave me the opportunity to sit back and just watch the show.

Beth and Cindy were perfect.

Beth's version of I Remember was even more moving than it had been in rehearsals, Cindy got through The Boy From... without a hitch and the crowd loved it.

Even Greg was on his game, making it through the show without stammering or dropping any lines. All in all, a great opening night, even if some of the audience looked like they hadn't understood what was going on.

Backstage after the show Beth came running up. "Tommy, I did it!"

"Of course you did! Never a doubt!" I reassured her. "So why don't you change out of your costume and we'll hit the cast party."

She leaned closer and nibbled on my ear. "After a trip to the farm, right?"

Who was I to argue? I always do what I'm told.

It was a little too cold for a blanket out in the meadow, but seeing Beth on the back seat of the beatermobile wearing nothing but a leer convinced me that staying in the car wasn't a problem.

When we finally got to the cast party we got a few knowing looks from our friends. The farm and Beth's special way of celebrating opening nights was threatening to become a legend with our little theatre community.

The rest of the run was as flawless as opening night. We even had some audience members come back to see it a second time. Sondheim is someone whose work almost demands repeated exposure to really get it.

At the final cast party I cornered Greg. "So what was it like, being in the spotlight instead of behind it?"

With a huge grin he looked at me. "Not bad. At least not as bad as I thought it would be. But then, you're going to find out for yourself."

"Huh?"

"Don't forget there's one more show this spring." He was getting WAY too much fun out of this!

"Yeah, but it's a musical and I can't sing!"

"Hey, buddy, remember—so was this show and I can't sing either," Greg laughed as he walked off to find Cindy.

Oh shit, what was I in for?

Just then my lady walked up. "Tommy, what's wrong? You look like a ghost!"

I told her what Greg had suggested my fate would be. I was hurt when an ear-to-ear grin appeared on her face—growing slowly like the rising sun—and just about as bright.

"There IS justice in this world!" she chortled. "Too bad you don't have anyone in a mirror to talk to!"

It was obvious there'd be no sympathy from that corner.

Monday I met Jim Moore after school and spent the rest of the afternoon shooting pictures throughout the warehouse and offices. Since he was so proud of his inventory system I spent a lot of time riding one of the lifts, getting shots from every angle I could think of.

When we were done Jim and I went back to his office. "Tommy, you really worked out there today. You were taking pictures that I would never have thought of. Do you think we got some good ones?"

"Well, I'll know as soon as I can run off some proofs. Will you be available Wednesday afternoon? I should have something to show you by then."

"That'd be great! I've got to tell you, the boss was thrilled by the pictures you did for our office."

"I'm glad he was happy. Hopefully, he'll be as happy with these.

"By the way, did you contact my friends about your web site?"

"I sure did! They came up with some great ideas! I hope we can use some of your pictures, too. I didn't realize how dull our site was until I checked out some of our competitors' sites. I think your friends can really turn things around."

"I'm sure they will. I've seen several sites they've done and I can't believe the improvements. Did you look at their site? Just click on the Examples tab and take a look at what they've done for other companies."

I shook Jim's hand and left for Beth's house. I'd been invited over for dinner.

Beth's dad answered the door. "Hi, Tommy, how are you doing? By the way, how'd that tripod adapter work that I welded up for you?"

"It works great, Mr. Jones. As a matter of fact, I used it today and it was perfect! Thanks again for the welding lessons."

"I understand you're going to learn how to use all the equipment in the basement?"

"That's what Beth told me. She said knowing how to use the tools would keep me from designing something that couldn't be built, so I guess I'm stuck."

Beth's dad started chuckling. "I wish everyone would do that. I remember a few projects that looked good on paper but there was no way you could build 'em!

"Listen to what Beth says, Tommy. She's been working with those machines since she was about eight. I remember her first experience with that big beast of a mill—she needed to stand on a stool to see what she was doing!"

I could just imagine my lady, probably wearing braces and pigtails, standing on a stool, horsing that big mill around. The mental picture put a huge grin on my face.

"What's so funny?" Speaking of my love, I'd been snuck up on again.

"Oh, your dad was just telling me stories," I said as innocently as I could.

Beth gave her dad a nasty look. "I deny them all, I didn't do it. Whatever it was."

Her dad grinned at her. "Oh yeah? I've got pictures, I do."

Just about then Beth's mom came around the corner. "Hi, Tommy. Did you get stuck as referee between these two?"

"Oh, no. I learned long ago never to argue with your daughter." That earned me an elbow—but just a playful one. Mrs. Jones chuckled. "Well, I just came in here to tell everyone dinner's ready. So shall we?"

Dinner at the Jones house seemed pretty normal to me by now. The family and work conversations sounded like those at any other family meal, except...

"Are you staying tonight, Tommy?"

Luckily I wasn't drinking anything—this time. "Ah, no. I've got a ton of homework to catch up on." Dammit, why couldn't I get used to the idea that Beth's parents knew about us and didn't seem to mind that we were—what was the term?—oh, yeah, humping like bunnies. There's just something unnatural about sitting around the dinner table at my girl's house having her mother ask, basically, if I was going to sleep with their daughter that night.

Luckily, Beth's dad changed the subject. "Tommy, you should have seen the expression on my face when I came home from work one night and there was Beth, oh, maybe five at the time, with my expensive boxed set of Starrett micrometers spread out on her bed, measuring everything in sight! I didn't know whether to beam with fatherly pride or scream seeing my daughter measuring the fingers on one of her dolls with a very expensive precision tool. She'd measure something and then write down every measurement. Oh, she had no idea how to actually read the mic, but that didn't stop her—she'd made up her own method! I tried to show her how to read the scale on the mic and then had to back up and explain decimal fractions. Within a month she could read that micrometer as well as I could.