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“That’s great.” Whitney beamed. “Only—”
“Ah, non.” Jean-Claude made a truly Gaelic pfft of regret. “She will be longer than a few minutes.”
“—have another audition for Newsies at four.” Whitney grimaced and shrugged. “And I—”
“Ah!” Peter loomed in the opening to the coat annex. “There you are, Eddie darling. I really think we must be getting on.” He gave her a gently chiding look and tapped his empty left wrist. “Time is running on, and the talent is waiting.”
“One minute,” Eddie tossed in the general direction of Peter and Whitney.
“Non, Eddie.” Jean-Claude raised his voice to ear splitting decibels. “I have told you. Dee she will—”
“Is that Jean-Claude?” Eyes shining, Whitney leaned closer. “Could you tell him I said hi?”
Along with every other under forty in the Paradise Players, Whitney had fallen prey to Jean-Claude’s tall, dark, and cut beauty. Unfortunately for them, Jean-Claude had an eye for older women. And unfortunately for Eddie, Dee was always on the lookout for the Jean-Claudes of this world.
At the mention of Jean-Claude, Peter stiffened like a pissed off pound mongrel. “Dee had no business leaving at this time. As the the-ay-ter’s resident operations manager, she knows this is our busy time.”
“Tell him they’re doing Newsies at the Rockridge Theatre,” Whitney whispered. “Jean-Claude’s tenor would be perfect.” She pursed her lips. “Do you think he’ll be back in time? I can tell them if he will be and maybe they can keep a part for him.”
“Jean-Claude is way too old for Newsies,” Peter snapped. “He’s at least forty.”
“No.” Whitney shook her cloud of walnut hair. “He’s only thirty-five and he looks so much younger.”
“Hello, Whitney!” Jean-Claude yelled down the line. “Hello, Peter. We are on the cruise, Dee and I. The cruise to Halaska.”
“Right.” Eddie did what she did best and took the reins. “Jean-Claude, please tell Dee to call me back. It’s urgent.” She hung up before Jean-Claude could tell her where Dee was again. “Whitney.” She turned to the young actress. “Have you filled out your audition form?”
Whitney’s face fell. “No, but I act here so often. I just thought—”
“We’re still going to need you to fill in that form.” Eddie produced a tight smile and the line nobody would argue with. “Insurance purposes.” Then she turned to Peter. “I’ll get the first group out to you.”
“Pah, pah, pah, pah, pah, pah, paaaaaaah.” Barrie’s mellow drone drifted over from the rehearsal room. He’d arrived to audition for the title role. A firm believer in professionalism, Barrie liked to set an example for the younger volunteers by always “preparing”. Even though he already had the part, and warming up was as much a waste of time as attending the auditions.
Peter popped his head into the rehearsal room. “Sounding good, Barrie.”
“She stood at the balcony door, inexplicably mimicking him hiccupping and amicably welcoming him in,” Barrie responded.
“Good job.” Peter tossed him the thumbs up. “Warm up the old instrument.”
Barrie responded with, “Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather.”
“Solid professional.” Peter nodded and tugged his cuffs into place. “Always a pleasure to work with.” He yanked open the sound lock door and disappeared into the blue-lit darkness.
“I didn’t see any auditions forms.” Whitney pouted. “They weren’t in the greenroom.”
Eddie pointed to the stack in the inbox marked Audition Forms on a shelf near the greenroom door.
Flushing, Whitney folded her arms. “I haven’t got a—”
“Pens, right there.” Eddie got out in front of Whitney’s hovering objection before she lost her shit completely. She consulted her clipboard and stuck her head into the greenroom. “Trina, Sue, Kathryn, we need you on stage please.”
She strode to the rehearsal room.
Barrie was chewing each syllable, his mouth working like it was filled with toffee as he chattered, “Unique New York. Unique New York. Unique—”
“Barrie.” Eddie motioned the stage door. “We need you on stage please.”
Straightening his shoulders, Barrie raised his chin like a conquering hero. “Which—”
