I have no answers to the first two questions. As for the last two, my guess is the former will be affirmative, while the latter will be negative.
Good. That's how it needs to be. I need her mad at me so she doesn't want to pick up where we left off. There will be none of that. She's just like any other cast member.
Off limits.
It'll be fine. It wasn't even anything to begin with. I wasn't supposed to have more than a few days with her. I simply need to keep my head down and focus on The Edison. It shouldn't be too hard. There are only about a million things to do.
It's a transition week, which means we're finishing up one production while getting ready to launch the next. We'll performDirty Rotten Scoundrelstonight and twice tomorrow. Then on Monday we'll strike that set, shifting into tech rehearsals forKiss Me, Katewhich will open on Friday night. Additionally, we'll start music and dance forThe Greatest Showman. Just explaining the process exhausts me, and I'm not in any of the shows.
Grayson's sitting outKiss Me, Kateto get ready forThe Greatest Showman. There's a lot riding on those three weeks of shows.
I don't need to worry about Tabitha. Even if I wanted to, there's no time for anything but rehearsals and shows.
"Is she here yet? Is she coming to the show tonight? You know, I just had a brilliant idea. Like totally brilliant." Grayson's voice startles me. I hadn't heard him sneak up behind me. He's half-dressed already for his role as Freddy, in wrinkled khaki pants and a loud Hawaiian shirt.
I glance at my watch.
"Thirty-minutes 'til curtain. I gotta go call it." I'd rather have something to do than wait for a car that may or may not show up anyway.
"What about my idea?"
"Let's talk after the show. I need to get backstage."
The last performances of a show are the easiest for me. The kinks have been worked out and the cast knows what they're doing. There's very little for me to fix or nitpick. In other words, I wish I were busier right now. Still, before I know it, Grayson and Bobby Benson are singing the closing song, "Dirty Rotten Number."
I never fail to be amazed at the magic that happens on that stage every night. For a long time, I wanted to be up there as well. I don't feel that tug anymore, mostly because I've convinced myself that I don't need to act. Directing, managing, and doing everything else behind the scenes is equally as important. The show couldn't go on without someone like me.
I don't need the spotlight. I'm totally fine with this.
As the cast and audience settle into the after-hours cabaret, Grayson catches up with me in the business office. He's still on a performance high and has more energy than a pot of coffee. I feel like my nerves have been stretched so thin they're about to snap.
Sometimes Grayson reminds me of a big, slobbering puppy dog. This is one of those moments.
I look up at him, not saying anything. He's practically reverberating with excitement. Finally, I cave. "What's your brilliant idea?"
He slides onto the corner of the desk. "I don't think Tabitha should play Charity."
"What? We brought her out here for that role. Our whole season is built upon it.Selling the showis built on it. You can't do that to her. I mean, to The Edison."
"No, listen." He shakes his hand, as if he's trying to frantically clean something. "She's not Charity. She's not right for the role."
"Well, you know, you could have told me that before I hauled my ass all the way across the country." The voice coming from the doorway surprises both of us. Grayson jumps up and envelops her in one of his trademark bear hugs.
"Tabby Cat! You're here!"
He releases her and she stumbles back. As soon as she gains her footing, she tilts her head, cocking her eyebrow. It's her pissed-off look. "Should I be? Or did I make this God-awful trek for nothing?" She glances at me. There is no warmth in her blue eyes.
I shrug. "I don't know anything here."
"I'm sure you don't. Or at least if you do, you can't be bothered to text it."
Grayson's still reverberating with enthusiasm. "No, we still want you.Need you. But I have a great idea. I know we cast you as Charity, and I'm sure you'd be good in that part, but I think you'd begreatas Jenny Lind."
Good God, if it had been any more obvious, it would have bitten my nose off. Of course, Tabitha should play Jenny. The opera star, so luminous and effervescent that she makes P.T. Barnum almost forget about his wife. I'd been so short-sighted, only seeing Tabitha as Charity because of that night at Oppa's.
This woman clouds my professional judgment. I shake my head slightly, as if to clear it.
Tabitha relaxes her eyebrow. "It's a great song."
