AllFreeNovel
Share Us
When his head popped out from the T-shirt, six pairs of eyes were staring at him.
He looked down, making sure he hadn’t put on a T-shirt with a big ketchup stain or something. “What?”
Church narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to? You trying to woo an agent or something?”
Jasper frowned. “This isn’t about me. It’s to promote all of us. The show.”
“Uh-huh,” Leah said, her flat tone saying everything.
He sighed. It stung that they still suspected he was moments from bailing on them again, but he’d earned that skepticism. “Can I film or not?”
Monique raised a dark brow and put a hand on her hip, striking an I’m-ready-for-my-close-up pose. “Fine by me. I look amazing on camera.”
Jasper put his arm out, accidentally bumping a box of margarita mix. The sharp pain in his side throbbed. “And everyone else?”
Barry stood, looking stiff and formal, which had garnered him the nickname Barry from HR, and lifted his hand. “All in favor, raise your hand.”
After a few murmured comments, everyone’s hands went up.
“Thank you,” Jasper said finally. “Let me hand the camera over to Billy to set up. I’ll be right back.”
When he returned, a few in the group gave him a look that said the conversation definitely wasn’t over, but there was no arguing with curtain time. They all gathered in the hallway and formed a circle. He could hear the clink of glasses and the murmur of conversation in the bar. The electricity in his veins started to hum, chasing away the cloud hanging over their conversation and the whole afternoon. This was the part he lived for. He put his hand inside the circle and they laid their hands on top of one another.
No matter what issues they had with each other on any given night, he knew they’d be all in once they got onstage. They didn’t bring personal crap into the performance. Improv relied on the team dynamic being one hundred percent supportive.Group mind.They wouldn’t let each other down.
Leah took over the prayer for the night. “Let the beer be cold, our scenes be funny, and our deodorant powerful.”
“Hail Yes!” they all chorused and lifted their hands.
They gathered by the door that led to the stage. The bar turned down the lights, except for the ones aimed at the stage. Jasper peeked out, happy to see an almost full house tonight. Fridays were usually chock-full of college students from UNO and Tulane. Gemma, the lead bartender, went to the mic with her deadpan voice and read off the index card she’d never bothered to memorize. “This is improv. Nothing you see here tonight was planned ahead of time. All scenes are acted on the fly. Flash photography and recording are prohibited. Don’t make me kick your ass out. Thank you.”
The last part was Gemma’s special addition. Oh, how Jasper missed their old theater.
Someone whooped from the audience, catcalling Gemma.
“Now please welcome Hail Yes,” Gemma said without enthusiasm.
Jasper shook his head and then jogged out onto the stage, clapping along with the rest of group and the audience. The lights were too bright to see most of the faces, but he could feel the energy of the room and absorbed it like a drug. He got the audience clapping in a rhythm as the rest of the group set up the row of chairs behind him to form the back line. When everything was set, he lifted his palms and the crowd quieted.
Monique stepped up to the front of the stage with her beaming smile. “Welcome, everyone, to the Hail Yes improv show!”
The audience cheered.
“Can I get a Hail Yes?” she asked, her booming voice carrying through the bar.
The audience shouted back a cacophonous chorus ofHail Yes. Bottles and glasses clinked.
“One more time!” she called out with a pumped fist, and Jasper wondered how she’d never been a cheerleader.
The audience parroted back the words, a little louder this time.
“All right, that’s an acceptable amount of drunken shouting,” she affirmed. “For those of you new to our show, we do what’s called an Armando. You don’t need to remember the name. Or your date’s name. Or your own name. All you need to know is that Jasper here is going to be our monologist for the night. You’ll give him a word, he’ll tell us atruestory inspired by that suggestion, and then we’ll use his monologue as inspiration for tonight’s improv.” She cocked a thumb toward him. “So all he needs from you is a word or phrase to get him started. Go!”
The audience murmured for a moment, the early, awkward jitters of a not-drunk-enough crowd, and then people started calling out words.
“Beer!” said a high-pitched female voice.
“Sex!” A male voice that time.
