Body on the Stage (27 page)

“But…” Jessica started to
protest but subsided at his look.

“Will Cathy be here tonight? I’d
like to get her side of the story about this morning’s events.”

Dennis winced at Jack’s
question. He’d rather hoped if Jack had to interview Cathy it would
be away from inquisitive ears. He really didn’t want the story of
his naked towel-wielding exploits to become common knowledge around
the theatre.

“Yes, she should be here any
moment. Jessica, do you think they could use your office for the
interview so it’s away from the crowds?”

“Oh that shouldn’t be
necessary,” Jack began, but caught sight of the pleading look in
Dennis’s eyes. “But actually it’s not a bad idea. That OK with you,
Jess?”

She tucked the damp tea-towel
over the oven door handle. “Of course, my love. All yours. Always
happy to assist the police with their enquiries.”

Dennis suspected her comment was
a marital code for ‘you’d better tell me all about it later’. He
hoped Jack’s professional discretion extended to cover Jessica as
well.

He didn’t get a chance to see
Cathy on her own until the evening’s rehearsal was over. He’d had
no chance to ask her to be discreet when talking to Jack Matherson,
but he hoped she’d used her judgement about disclosing how much
he’d revealed in his quixotic dash to her rescue.

As they were heading for the
door, he broached the question.

“So did you tell Jack about the
guys that were at the gym this morning? He said he’d be asking
you.”

“Yes, he took me up to the
theatre office for some reason, said it would be quieter.”

“Good. And, er, what did you
tell him, exactly?”

“Well you were there this
morning, Dennis, you know what happened. That’s what I told
him.”

He sighed. She was making this
very difficult. “I meant about the towel, and, well, me. I suppose
he laughed, did he?”

“Oh Dennis! Who could possibly
laugh at a man brave enough to defend his girl from two gorillas,
stark naked and armed only with a towel? That was utterly heroic of
you and I only wish I could have told the whole story – but I
figured you probably wouldn’t want the entire truth of the tale
told so I skipped over that little detail. Oh, not that it was a
‘little’ detail, of course!”

The knowing gleam in her blue
eyes lit a fire under his slumbering libido and did much to erase
the morning’s embarrassment.

“Well thank you for your
discretion – and the compliment.” He could feel his face burning.
Half-remembered flames of desire were suddenly licking a pathway
around his body. What should his next move be? Oh God, he was so
out of practice at all this. How could he move this promising
scenario along to the next step? Before he could formulate a
cunning plan to arrange some alone time with her, Cathy did it for
him.

“Sweetie, would you mind giving
me a lift home please? My bike tyre seemed a bit flat when I rode
here and I don’t want to damage the rim riding back to my place.”
She turned to face him with an impish grin. “You don’t mind, do
you? I could show you a few new…exercises, if you like.”

“Right. Yes. OK then.” The
feelings of heat intensified, but Dennis was torn between
straightforward lust and complicated reservations. Was he ready to
make this leap? Could he put his previous love-life behind him and
try a new partner? Would he be good enough to please her? He
wavered for a moment then threw caution aside and let instinct take
over. He took a deep breath and spoke clearly and forcefully. “All
right Cathy, I’m going to give you a ride.”

His gung-ho optimism lasted
until they were safely at her place and horizontal together on her
bed. At that point all the doubts flooded back, tormenting him with
unhappy memories. Cathy sensed his change of mood and drew back,
studying his face.

“What are you thinking, sweetie?
You look sad. Is there something you need to talk about?”

He tried to laugh it off. “Just
feeling a bit out of practice, I guess. They say it’s like riding a
bike, don’t they? Something you never forget how to do. Well they
don’t tell you how to ride a different model, or how to get over
the fear when you’ve fallen off the last few times.”

“I’m trying to picture that
scenario as related to lovemaking but it’s not making sense, I’m
afraid. Why don’t you just tell me what’s worrying you? Let’s get
it out in the open.” Her warm, supportive response was exactly what
he needed and he began to explain.

“Louise, my ex-wife, was small
and fussy and delicate – a bit of a clean-freak – couldn’t bear
mess of any kind. Sex was dirty and had to be accomplished with a
minimum of stickiness or transfer of bodily fluids.” He hung his
head. “She always preferred to be on top because I sweated and she
didn’t want it dripping on her.”

“Oh that poor, poor woman.”

He looked up, startled. She’d
sounded genuinely sympathetic, but to the wrong person.

“Eh?”

“Well she must have had so many
hang-ups preventing her enjoyment, and worst of all, she projected
them onto you. Gosh, I hope your other lovers were more relaxed
about it.” As she studied his reaction her eyes narrowed. “Dennis,
do tell me she wasn’t the only partner you’ve had.”

“Er, well, actually…”

“No!”

“Yes. We were high-school
sweethearts and never got around with anyone else. She was quiet
but strong-willed and she decided how things were. I loved her, of
course, mostly because she needed me. I was her protector, and a
badge of status I guess, when having a steady boyfriend was a big
deal. Later when we got married and I was earning good money I was
security and a good provider.”

“So when did things go wrong?”
Cathy’s blue eyes held his gaze and wouldn’t let him hide any
more.

“She realised she didn’t
actually need me at all. And that there were other men out there
who were smarter, better-looking, and just as interested in her.
She found excuses to avoid sex for a few months then she suddenly
moved out and told me it was all over.”

“Hm. I think my sympathy for her
just went out the window. What a bitch!” Cathy stroked his head
gently. “You poor thing, it must have been devastating for you.”
She gazed into his eyes for a few moments, sharing his sadness.
Then he could see by the way her eyes lit up that a new thought had
entered her head. She bounced upright, sitting on the bed hugging
her knees. “Come on, I’ve just had a great idea.”

“Oh yes?” he said warily. He was
in uncharted territory here and didn’t feel entirely
comfortable.

“Your only partner was against
messy, uninhibited, playful love-making, right? So you never did
anything much besides straight ‘her-on-top’?”

“Ye-e-es.”

She grinned wickedly. “Well let
me introduce you to your new friends Miss Baby Oil and Miss Plastic
Sheet. They’re going to help me show you SUCH a good time!”

Dennis’s eyes widened and his
mouth made a small O of surprise.

It was a new man who strode into
the theatre the following night. Dennis felt ten feet tall and
bullet-proof. He stood straighter, his eyes were brighter, and a
smile hovered round his lips. When he walked into the Green Room
Jessica looked up and smiled, then did a double-take.

“Bloody hell, Dennis, what’s
happened to you?” She looked more intently. “You look different.
What is it? No, don’t tell me…”

“I have no intention of telling
you, Jessica.”

“Aha!” She understood
immediately and a wide grin spread across her face. “Well good for
you, mate. It’s about time. Oh don’t worry, I won’t say anything.
Your sinful secret is safe with me.” She stopped speaking just in
time as Tony and Gazza entered the room. Both were wearing faded
sweatshirts from old shows; Tony’s was
Cats
and Gazza’s was
Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat
. Dennis felt a bit left
out in his plain blue sweatshirt but it gave him a safe topic of
conversation to fill the noticeable silence before Tony and Gazza
became aware of it. He sat down at the table.

“Jessica, will there be shirts
for this show? It would be good to have one as a souvenir.”

“Yes, I think Clara-Jane is
organising some. I’ll find out for you.”

“Hey, Dennis,” said Tony,
breezing past him, “how about a round of coffees?” He pulled up a
few steps later and looked at him with more attention. “Actually,
don’t worry, I’ll put the kettle on myself. Want one?”

“Yeah, thanks Tony. That would
be great.” Dennis raised his eyebrows at Jessica and she responded
with a wink.

“You got a new haircut or
something, Doc?” said Gazza. Jessica chuckled and he looked at her
suspiciously. “What?”

She was saved from answering
when Jack breezed in and bent over to bestow a kiss on her.

“Hello Jessica my love, how’s it
going?” He pulled out a chair and sat astride it, looking round to
see who else was in the room. “Anything to report I should know
about?”

“Like what?”

“Like threatening musclemen
lurking outside, that sort of thing? Have they been back?”

“Not that I’ve seen,” she said,
turning to Dennis and Gazza. “What about you guys – any
sightings?”

“We must have scared them off,”
put in Tony from the kitchen. “One look at Gazza with the mallet
and they were running. They won’t be back.”

“I’d like to share your
optimism,” said Jack, “but these are pretty tough characters, if
they’re the ones we think they are.”

“You know them?” said Jessica.
“Then can’t you just arrest them for being threatening? Looming
with intent? Menacing without due care and attention?”

He shook his head. “There’s no
hard evidence against them so there’s nothing we can do just yet.
We think they’ve been involved in a number of drug-related crimes
around town over the last few months but nobody’s willing to talk.
It’s frustrating, but we’ll get something on them eventually.”

Jessica saw a look pass between
Gazza and Tony as he brought the coffees over to the table. “Oh no
you don’t!” she exclaimed. “I know you two – I can read you like a
book, and it’s something manly by Lee Child about righting wrongs.
Settle down there, guys, I’m not having you taking matters into
your own hands – we don’t need any vigilante action here. I need
you two intact for the show, not to mention helping to run this
damn theatre.” She appealed to Jack. “Talk some sense into them,
will you? Neither of them has what it takes to be Jack
Reacher.”

“Much as it pains me to say it,
Jessica is actually right.” He dodged a thump on the arm. “Leave
this to the proper authorities, guys. I don’t want any future court
case jeopardised by claims of assault or grievous bodily harm or
any of the other ideas you may have in mind. Understood?”

“Yeah, of course,” they
protested innocently.

“We wouldn’t make any trouble –
we’re the good guys,” said Tony.

“Just a couple of law-abiding
citizens,” said Gazza, sitting back and tipping his cap over his
eyes.

“Well I’m glad we got that
settled,” Jack said dryly. “We’ll do our bit down at the station to
follow up leads and secure strong evidence – that’s what we do. You
guys hang round here and make life safe for male strippers and the
women who watch them.”

“Thanks, Jack. Can’t you at
least tell us how that Vincenzo guy was murdered? You’ll have some
suspects in mind, won’t you?” Tony wheedled.

Jack shook his head. He levered
himself off the chair and headed towards the door, where he
sketched a salute. “Evening all. I’ll be off then.”

When the four stripper actors
gathered in the Green Room for supper during the interval, Jessica
went over to talk to them.

“Can you guys be available for a
photo shoot this weekend, say Saturday afternoon about two o’clock?
We’ve got a photographer lined up if you can fit it in.”

They looked at each other,
nodding.

“Sure, that should work,” said
Mark. “Where are we doing it? Here?”

“We’ll do a few shots here, yes,
but Nick thought we could do some calendar-type shots to use as a
centrefold for the programme. If we have a great shot of your
glistening sexy bodies and a small calendar underneath, the
programme will end up being used as a poster on office walls all
over Whetford for the entire year. Nick is rubbing his hands in
glee over how much he’ll be able to charge for adverts around the
edge of the picture.”

Mark grinned. “Now that sounds
like a good deal. Do we get a cut of that?”

“Let me see…” she pretended to
consider the idea. “Yeah… nah. Sorry Mark, all proceeds go to this
dear old theatre – you know that. It’s one of those bottomless pits
we pour money into because we love the place.”

“This photographer,” said
Dennis, “is he the one Cathy told me about that does body-building
photos?”

“Yes, that’s right. Hey, you
should come along on Saturday, Dennis. You’ll be needing your after
photo done, won’t you? I’m sure he can fit in a few shots up the
Hook Valley. We’re going to put the guys in the river and get some
cool shots with reflections of tanned torsos in the water.
Afterwards he can do some of you too.”

There was a crash of breaking
crockery as a plate of muffins hit the floor and shattered. Mark
busied himself picking them up, muttering apologies from beneath
the table.

“Oh and another little
expedition for you four,” said Jessica, “is the promo appearance
downtown on Friday night. We’re going to dress you up and take you
round all the bars and clubs in a stretch limo to hand out flyers
and a few tickets. It shouldn’t take too long, just an hour or so.”
She grinned. “You may meet some new and exciting people.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said
Warwick. “Dear sweet little Leonie has been finding her kicks
elsewhere so I might as well be on the lookout for fresh talent
myself. Count me in.”