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That would be something to see. It had been years since I’d been asked to belt out a tune or hoof the boards. I could do both rather well actually after taking lessons to perfect my talents. Shame all I was known for now was being a bloodthirsty jerk.
“Maybe, Kimmy,” I replied, then sat back to try to call up exactly what kind of stage performance a thespian with my skills could star in. Something dark and brooding where they blew up things and used lots of guns.
First Blood the Musical.That would fill the seats for sure.
***
Two days later, I was meeting up with the incomparable Minnie Conklin, owner of Kesside Fine Art Gallery and a whirlwind of a woman. No bigger than a Hobbit, Minnie could run circles around me and had been for the past twenty minutes. Her hair was a short red bob, her face round, and her figure chunky. She wore a bit too much rouge and big dangly earrings that matched her yellow shirt and black skirt. The woman reminded me of the bumblebee that I’d ridden into on my way to town this afternoon. That encounter had nearly caused me to crash my bike into a stone driveway pillar that marked the short road to an elite cabin on the western side of the island. I was still looking for green cars and not chunky bumblebees. That’ll teach me to keep my eyes on the road and not on the neighbors’ vehicles.
“…to me you’ve shown up when you have,” Minnie was saying as she hustled me out of her art gallery—which I was pleased to see had pottery from a certain ceramist I was infatuated with—and out into the hot summer sun. July had arrived just this day, bringing summer weather with it. The forecast for the Fourth was hot, dry, and fireworks galore. “I’ve been trying to fend off several developers who are lusting after the playhouse,” she said over her shoulder as she locked the gallery for a late lunch hour.
Town was bustling with tourists and summer residents were already arriving. The docks were filling up as the rich folk berthed their sailboats and cabin cruisers. By this weekend, every berth would be filled and the waters around the isle would be packed with boats of all shapes and sizes.
“Oh? Kimmy never mentioned that,” I said, casting a look around an SUV to see if I could see the pottery shop from here. I could, but there was no sign of Gibson. I’d stop by after I was done here to see if he had any plans for the evening. Hopefully not. I was hoping to invite him to the inn to take part in a one-on-one cornhole challenge. Loser buys drinks at the bar inside the inn.
“It’s nothing I’d like the residents to know of right off. I’m hoping we can secure some major funding to keep the theater open and afloat for a few years. Perhaps by that time I can convince the residents that a small tax increase to save the playhouse would be a good investment.”
“Well, if anyone can do it, Madame Mayor, it would be you.” She giggled like a schoolgirl as we picked our way carefully through the tourists. The roar of the whale watching tour boats’ motors floated by with the sound of gulls and children laughing. “What are the developers hoping to do with the theater?”
“They’re keen to tear it down and open up a hotel,” she said, casting a concerned look my way as we came up in front of the old playhouse. My brow furrowed. “Yes, that was my reaction as well. We have two fine inns here on the island, the small one here on the tip and yours.”
“Well, it’s my father’s,” I confessed as she shook out a ring of keys and then found the one she sought quickly. “But yes, I’d rather not have a major chain come in here to push out the two small family-owned businesses.”
“Nor would I. We take pride in the fact that all of our businesses are independently owned. While I would hate to turn the property over to an uncaring real estate developer who has never been to the island nor ever will, as the caretaker of the playhouse for the town, something will have to be done here soon. Greg, my son, has been making small repairs when he can, but…well, you’ll see.”
She unlocked the front doors. I held the door open for her, removing my ball cap and shades when we stepped into the dark theater. Minnie pulled out a small keychain flashlight. I shoved my cap into the back pocket of my shorts—wondering why I was even bothering with the whole movie star incognito bit when everyone and their poodle knew who I was and why I was here now—and followed Minnie into the lobby. The place smelled of musk and rodents, not a pleasant aroma at all.
“We keep the power on here to run the heater in the winter and try to discourage vandals.” The carpeting under our feet was threadbare. “Not that we have much vandalism offseason, but the summer folks are known to bring some wild teenagers with them when they come.”
I nodded. Yep, Dad and I knew all about the rich kids who strolled around town filled with attitude. Billy and I had gotten into more than our fair share of fights as young men. And now he was preaching to turn the other cheek. My smile over my old friend with the smart mouth now being the pastor faded quickly when Minnie shined her light upward.
“Oh fuck, that’s not good,” I mumbled when I saw the water stains on the high ceiling. “Sorry for the profanity.”
“Pfft, I’ve seen all the Connor Days movies, some twice. I’m not offended by an F-bomb.”
“My father would kick my backside if he knew I spoke that way in front of the mayor,” I said, trudging along after her through the sorrowful lobby into the theater itself. She padded over to the left, leaving me standing in the doorway. The click of lights blinded me for a moment, then I let out a slow, sad breath. “Holy hell.”
The theater area was a disgrace. The stink of mouse piss was much stronger in here. Walking down the center aisle, Minnie showed me seat after seat that was rodent chewed. The carpeting was down to the wood in spots, and the curtains that hung from the ceiling to the stage itself were moth-eaten. I climbed onto the stage, Minnie following me, listing off all the things that the playhouse needed funds for. New wiring, new plumbing, new roof. And that was just the big things. She also ticked off new flooring in the bathrooms, new bathrooms, new carpeting…the list went on and on.
After we had made a pass through the cramped backstage area, we made our way to the lobby, the fresh air coming in the open doors a relief after an hour of inhaling mouse pee and dampness.
I eyed the small concession stand covered with rodent droppings and dust.
“Is the town looking to sell this property or just find someone to invest in it?” I asked as we lingered in the shade, Minnie seemingly unwilling to venture out into the afternoon heat.
“Well, to be honest, we’re looking to find someone who will love this old gal as much as we do. As a native islander and a thespian who got his start on that stage,” she waved a well-manicured hand at the cavernous dark room behind us, “I’m sure you understand that the need for arts far outweighs the need for another chain hotel. Also, as a hotelier, you can surely see what a cheap motel/hotel will do to your family’s inn. Small business cannot compete with a huge chain. That being said, the playhouse is a huge drain on the town coffers. Greg has been doing what he can, but he can’t afford to keep shelling out free labor and supplies to keep her limping along. No, what we need is someone with a love of the theater and a large wallet to step in and buy her lock, stock, and leaky barrel.”
She turned clever brown eyes on me. I laughed out loud. “That was about as subtle as a brick to the back of the head, Mayor.”
“I didn’t get elected to tippy-toe around the issues. I’m a direct woman. Personally, speaking off the record, I would love to see you buy her outright. Your name on the marquis would be a draw.”
“I’m not so sure about that, and to be honest, I have no wish to have my name in lights here.” She rolled those brown eyes. “If I do buy her from the town, the name will stay the same. My name is shit right now, pardon my French.”
“People get too damn caught up in what other people do in their bedrooms if you ask me,” she stated as if she were out stumping for votes. That Maine accent was thick and strong. “We got bigger fish to fry on Kesside than fretting over who shacks up with whom or what they’re wearing when they get out of the tub.”
“You got my vote,” I quipped. She chuckled. “What’s the asking price for her?”
She folded her arms over her substantial bosom and then tipped her head to study me. “One point two million with a twelve point two four cap rate.”
