Shakespeare's Valentine Pt. 05

106.

Sunday tech began with a few hours spent on the top of 4.1, coordinating lights, sound and effects for the witches nightmare take on "MasterChef." Since I entered into the second half of that scene, I'd been hanging out just offstage, when Colleen, Victor's assistant stage manager, came over to tell me that they wouldn't be getting to me for a bit, and that I could go relax in the dressing rooms; they'd call me when they were ready for me. I shared a dressing room with Jem, who'd probably be there either on his phone, or fiddling with his Duncan crown, or mainlining Reese's Pieces. Okay, so apparently I wasn't feeling dressing room-y. As I passed, I looked into the green room. Sam Cabrerra sat in an easy chair, reading something on an iPad. Banquo's ghost would be another late addition to 4.1, and Sam had decided not to gore up until we were closer. Now he looked up and saw me.

"Ese, you got a minute?"

I really liked Sam. He was one of those big, quiet guys whose good opinion of a person counts for a lot. He was a solid actor, appealing and intelligent, and his size, and his face-heavy brows, a broad nose, large eyes, wide mouth-lent him some danger. He hadn't done much Shakespeare, and he'd been a little nervous of the language, but after a few false starts, he managed to get his mouth around it. He was going to be a terrific Banquo.

I liked Sam, and I was pretty sure Sam liked me, but I also hadn't forgotten his promise to Cherri to kick my ass if I got out of line. I was pretty sure he was kidding, but...Sam was a big dude.

I came into the room, and headed over to the electric kettle. "Hey, Big Guy"--most of the company was anywhere from a few inches to half-a-head taller than I was, but for some reason, Sam was the only one the nickname stuck to-"what's on your mind? And I'm gonna make some tea, want a cup?"

"If it's got caffeine."

"PG Tips? These things'll take the paint off a Chevy."

"Fine."

I filled the kettle, flipped the switch, and turned to face Sam. He seemed to be having some trouble figuring out where to start. Ah shit. I had no apologies to make to anybody for spending time with Cherri, but I remembered that Sam had been interested in her back in the day. Maybe he still was. Beautiful women: not a subject on which all men are rational.

"So...um, did Cherri tell you what I said?"

"About kicking my ass? Yeah, she mentioned it."

He must have picked up something in my tone. "Hey, I was mostly kidding, Ese."

I smiled. "I figured. And...well for a bunch of reasons we don't have to get into, it was actually a pretty nice thing for you to say."

That startled him a little. "Yeah? Well...did she mention that I'd asked her out, back during this Shepard we did together?"

I was still smiling, barely: "She did."

"Shit, Dai, would you sit down? I'm not...I mean it's none of my business. I just..."

The kettle pinged. I said: "Let me get the tea. Anything in yours?"

"Nah, just the little bag."

I handed him his tea, and we sat, Sam back in his easy chair facing the short end of a stained coffee table, and me on an old suede sofa facing the door.

Sam took a deep breath. "So here's the thing. You guys are together? Fine. Not my concern, but I just wanted to say...I've known Cherri for a while, and, yeah, I had a thing for her-maybe still do a little-but I also really like her, and...man, it has not been easy for that lady."

"No shit."

"She told you? Good. I figured she would, but...anyhow, this is maybe the fourth show we've done together, uh, Tooth of Crime, that piece of shit new thing at the Archway, what was that called? Walls of...something, Orpheus Descending, and...no, that other thing was just a reading. Still, I've done a bunch of stuff with Cherri, and...she can be a lot."

He looked at me. Nothing for me there. I let him look.

"I mean she can be intense, super focused, super frustrated-I've seen her lose her shit more than once. But she's super tough, too, you know? I mean she just keeps picking herself up, and getting on with getting on, you know? And the work is always...I mean she is so good!"

"Carol Cutrere in Orpheus?" Where was this going?

"Yeah, and Dai, I'm am not kidding, she was on fucking fire! She was so much better than anything else in that show: the kind of fuck-you sexy, the despair! She blew the roof of that little shithole, but they're never gonna have her back. Not that she needs those people."

"Trouble in the room?"

"Yeah. I don't know what it was for sure. I mean I can guess, but..."

"Sam, I don't mean to be...look, why are you telling me all this?"

This little smile crept onto his face. I didn't know quite what to make of it, but it stayed in his voice as he answered. "Dude, what we got here? This is a whole new Cherri. I mean, she's...relaxed...look, don't get me wrong; the work is still amazing..."

"Yes it fucking is!"

"But she's smiling! She's bullshitting with people-with other women in the company, which she never used to do-she's like a different lady!" He leaned forward in his chair, and now his smile was gone. "I guess...ah, shit, it's none of my business, but I've just got to say, be careful, man. I don't know what this is for you, and like I say..."

"It's none of your..."

"None of my business. But I think...I think you're really good for her. And I really don't want to see her hurt again, so..."

107.

Silence. He'd said his piece, and on the one hand, he was right. It was none of his business. On the other hand...

I said: "Sam, listen. I'm going to say this because you're her friend. I...don't know where we go from here, she and I. I can't promise she'll never get hurt. I'm sure as hell never going to hurt her, not if I can help it. Look, here's the thing. I love her. That's just between us, okay? I've told her, and now I'm telling you. I love her. I don't even know her that well, and we live in different places, and...and I don't know what all else. But if she'll...work with me on this, we'll figure something out. But that's all I got. No guarantees. No-I don't know-big romantic gestures, okay? I love her. And it sounds like maybe you do too. I respect that, and I'm sorry if that's got to be a problem between us, because I really do like you, but..."

"No, Brother. No problem." He sighed. "I think I'm mostly over her, but...well, you know Cherri. And for the record, I like you too. And I think you're terrific in the role."

"Thanks, my friend, and right back at you. You're a great Banquo. Sorry about sending three guys to stab you."

"It's okay, Ese. Just next time, don't click on 'send' until you've read through the email."

I chuckled, and Sam continued: "And thanks for...clearing things up for me. I shouldn't have asked, but...and I really do hope you guys work out. I think maybe..."

He trailed off. We sat there, sipping tea, one guy in a kilt, and the other in long underwear and a sleeveless t-shirt. Just another day at work. Finally he said: "So a couple actors are talking. First guy says: 'Hey, did you hear about Bob? He was on this movie, and a helicopter crash-landed right on top of him, broke both his legs, and then the whole thing tipped over, and cut him in half with the rotor blades. He's dead.' Second guy says: 'Fucking Bob got a movie?"

I'd heard it before, but I laughed anyway. I liked Sam.

108.

Over the course of the day, we finished teching the show, broke for dinner, ran the show once, and got a few quick notes from Gil. Then we were all dismissed 45 minute early, except for Cherri. Costumes apparently had a couple of last minute tweaks, and they needed her around to make them. We were all sitting in the house, so I leaned over, kissed my Lady on the cheek, and said: "See you back. Unless you want to grab drinks with Jem, and Kal, and maybe Sam, and a few of the others."

She sighed. "Not me tonight. I'm beat. You go ahead if you want to."

"Nah, I think I'll head back to my place. Come find me there?"

"Uh huh." She reached over and squeezed my forearm. "See you soon."

109.

I put on my coat, and was just about to step out into the evening, when I heard a voice call: "Dai, hold up!"

I turned to see Regina hurrying toward me. Regina Tyler: African American, maybe 40, plus or minus, tall, slim, and beautiful with a long, graceful oval face, large eyes, and a wide, expressive mouth. She was wearing a trenchcoat, which she was just belting over black slacks and a burgundy sweater. I'd worked with Regina once before, on a solid but uninspired production of Desire Under the Elms in Newport News. She'd been maybe a little too sophisticated for Abbie, but she hadn't had much of an Eben, which made it tough. The Cabot had been this marvelous actor from New Hampshire, Bill Hanrahan, and we'd had some meals together, just the three of us. Before arriving for the season at Oak Ridge, the last time I had seen Regina was at Bill's funeral. We were lucky to have her as First Witch. She was really there to play Beatrice in Much Ado.

"Hey, Regina! Heading back?"

"Yeah, I've got to get some sleep before tomorrow; gotta run home"--Chicago-"for a thing."

A "thing" probably meant an audition, but if you knew Regina at all, you knew not to ask for specifics. Like most actors I knew, myself included, she was deeply superstitious, and she'd never talk about a job until she'd signed a contract.

"Okay, I won't ask."

She looked puzzled. "Huh?" Then her face cleared. "Oh. No, not job-related. A friend's having surgery, and I promised her a little TLC."

"Nothing serious, I hope."

She sighed. "It's a little serious. Lumpectomy. But they think they caught it early."

"Ah, shit. Well, I wish her all the best. Is it getting in the way of Much Ado at all?"

She stopped walking and shot me a look. "Why, what have you heard?"

What? "Regina, I haven't heard anything at all. I've been...pretty focused on Macbeth."

"Yeah, I know what you've been focused on," and her voice was full of meaning. "I've been hearing all about it through the wall."

Hoo boy. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that." I muttered.

"Yeah, well. Much Ado will be fine. Probably nothing special. Have you worked with Sarah before?"

"Your director? No. She's out of...is it Arizona?"

"Yeah, TTC, some little black box down in Tucson. She's got some ideas, and some people are doing good work: Jem's a great Dogberry, and Sam is hilarious as Antonio..."

"And I bet you're a spectacular Beatrice."

She smiled a little ruefully. "Doing my best without a Benedick?"

Wow. Not Kal's season, apparently. "Is he...is there a problem?"

Regina started walking again. "A couple of them. First of all, maybe a week ago...you remember that night we went out for Karaoke, and Colin just got wasted?"

"I remember the Karaoke, but I think we...I ducked out early."

"Yeah, you guys missed some shit! Anyway, after we convinced the owner of the place not to call in the National Guard to pry Colin off the ceiling, Kal got me outside and tried to put his tongue down my throat."

Okay, that was just bizarre. Kal could be a bit of a diva, but I never thought of him as stupid. I asked: "Did you tell your wife on him?"

"Yes I did. Bandhavi wanted to fly out and shoot him, but I reminded her that she'd have a hard time getting the Benelli past security. Besides, he was drunk. And he apologized for maybe half-an-hour the next morning. I don't think either of us realized just how drunk he was."

"Still. But I'm glad he apologized. What the hell is up with him? Screaming at Mac, making poor Andi cry, putting the moves on you: he wasn't like this on Caesar..."

110.

We'd reached the apartments. I said: "You know, we haven't talked much lately. You want to come in for a minute? I'll make a cup of tea. Hell for you, I'll even add whiskey."

"Yeah, like that makes me special. You do know what they're going to carve on your tombstone? 'Here lies the inventor of Bourbon and tea. Did something for him; not a damn thing for me.'"

"Did you just come up with that?"

"Yes I did! And I'll come in for a minute. Tea with sugar if you have it. No whiskey."

"Suit yourself."

When I'd brewed the tea-and added a little Makers to mine, (the really good stuff was up in Cherri's room)--we sat on the sofa. After a few sips Regina came back to the subject of Kal. "So you know Kal really wanted to play Macbeth, right?"

Huh. That explained some things. "I mean, who wouldn't? But I didn't know specifically. Was he sort of counting on it because he's a regular?"

"Yeah, but...well, I think part of him knew Gil wouldn't give it to him. They kind of crossed swords on that Midsummer a few years back."

"Were you in that?"

"Yeah, I was Helena."

"Ooh, now I wish I'd seen it! I'll bet you were amazing!"

She grinned. "Actually, I think I was. But Kal wasn't. He's not really a comic actor, not that Oberon or Theseus has to be all that funny, but...I don't know. He's got a pretty good opinion of himself-you know: the gorgeous face, the super-jacked bod-but he's not really comfortable being anything but this idea he has of himself as a cool, macho, bad boy. I think Antony in Caesar may be the best thing I ever saw him do. And it didn't hurt that Marge cast Octavius as a woman, and the actor...what was her name?"

"Oh, that was Kim something...Kim Singleton, nice woman."

"But not a very good Octavius."

"No," I agreed. "Much better as Phoebe in the As You."

"Yeah, she was kinda great in that. But in the Caesar, she really didn't push back much, so Kal was pretty much the biggest, baddest thing in the room whenever he was on stage."

I flashed back to Desire Under the Elms rehearsals. Regina and I and Bill-rest in peace-had been a little unit for a few weeks, closing the local bars with long discussions, part serious theater and part serious tea. I'd enjoyed those sessions, and between rehearsing Macbeth and getting together with Cherri, I hadn't actually heard all that much about Much Ado. What I had heard, mostly from Jem, amounted to him keeping his head down and doing his job. If Regina wanted to dish a little bit...

Just then there was a knock at the door, which I'd left unlocked, and in walked Cherri.

111.

It's atavistic. It lives down there in the reptilian cortex. It's fucking stupid, and deeply annoying. Regina was an old friend. Regina was fully clothed, and sitting three feet away from me-okay, maybe more like a foot-and-a-half-it wasn't that big a sofa. For chrissake, Regina was a lesbian, and married. And Regina was a beautiful woman, and when a guy's lady friend walks in on him talking to a beautiful woman, even a beautiful, married, gay woman...there's this really unpleasant couple of seconds when you revert to your six-year-old self caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Apparently I needn't have worried. Sounding like somebody greeting an old friend at her 25th High School Reunion, Cherri called: "Witch!"

In exactly the same voice, Regina cried: "Bitch!"

Then Cherri walked over, bent down to kiss me lightly on the lips, and said: "I want to sit where you're sitting. Move."

"Hey!"

Regina was grinning. Cherri hauled me to my feet, sat down, lifted her leg and kicked me gently in the ass. "Oh be quiet, and go make me some tea. Ooh, do you have any of that Makers left?"

Regina rolled her eyes. "Seriously, you drink that shit too? No wonder he's nuts for you."

I was heading back towards the kitchen, trying not to grin. "Yeah, there's some left. Not that you're getting any."

"Whiskey in the tea, Lover, or you'll be the one who's not getting any."

Regina: "Damn!"

Me (making the tea): "Don't worry, that's an empty threat. She can't resist my manly charms. Nobody can."

Cherri: "That's actually true. If you want to borrow him for the evening, his cock isn't all that long, but it is kind of thick..."

I yelled: "Jesus, Woman!" and dropped the kettle. Regina cracked up, and just avoided blowing lukewarm tea out of her nose.

112.

Once the hilarity had died down, I filled Cherri in: "Regina was telling me a little about Much Ado."

"Yeah, we've talked some about it." That surprised me, but Cherri continued. "You know, dressing room chat."

"Sure, but...I guess I didn't realize you guys were, um, old friends? I mean, I know you've worked together, on the Midsummer here at least..." I trailed off, because the two women seemed to be appraising each other. Finally Regina said:

"Actually, we're kind of new friends."

Uh oh. Now, what was I walking into?

Cherri: "Something else we haven't talked about, I guess." She gave me a wan little smile. "I've never really had that many women friends before..."

Regina: "Got a couple now."

That little smile widened into a grin. "Yeah, I guess I do. It's a really nice feeling, actually. Anyhow," turning back to Regina, "this one actually has a chance of glimpsing the hidden depths of the female psyche, so maybe I'll explain things to him; I mean eventually, when he grows up. Meanwhile, you have my permission to tell the little fella all about Much Ado."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Sounded to me like somebody was pleased with her costume adjustments, which was a good thing. Still, I found myself revisiting the idea of giving the love of my life a good, hard spanking. And then I found my cock stiffening. Hmm...

Regina's eyes considered Cherri for another few seconds, then, turning to me, she said: "It's late, so I'll keep it short. I mean, you can probably guess most of it."

"Kal?" I asked.

"Yup." Regina sighed. "It's frustrating because, In a lot of ways, he's pretty decent casting for Benedick, right?"

"Well," put in Cherri, "he is decorative."

"Be fair. He's good with the language. He can be charming. His soliloquy just before the gulling: probably his best work in the show. But finally he's not very funny. And he's just not giving me much to work with, and Lord knows I'm trying! I think he's scared of women. Hell, he had the same problem on Midsummer."

Cherri: "No vulnerability."

Regina: "Right? Love, sex, acting: hell, it's all about listening. It's about responding to the cues your partner gives you and vice versa. In bed, in life, on stage: doesn't matter. You. Have. To. Be. Willing. To. LISTEN!!! If you think you know what it's all about going in..."

Cherri: "You're fucked."

Regina: "Not by me you're not. Not more than once, anyhow. And the poor man is jealous."

Me: "Which confuses the hell out of me, because when you come right down to it, what the hell does he have to be jealous of? He works constantly. I think he's across the board with Talent Mart. But whoever's repping him, he's auditioning for stuff way above his pay grade, because he's so damn good looking..."

Regina cut me off. "Dai, he's jealous of Macbeth. Not just the role, although he wanted that pretty badly. Look, we've got something special going here. I'm not just talking-you know-good, clear, straightforward Shakespeare festival stuff here. No, we're onto something really exciting. I mean even the crew is into us. Did you notice? They had to go over a bunch of stuff three and four times, because they were watching the damn show! This one's going to be...different. Everybody's at the top of their game. Nothing I've ever seen Gil do has this kind of energy. The company is loving it. Hell, I've wanted to play Beatrice for years, and all I can think of is how much fun I'm having on Macbeth. And Macbeth isn't about Kal. He knows it, and because under all the prima donna bullshit, he's actually a pretty decent guy, he feels guilty, because he's mostly jealous of a guy he likes, you."