Body on the Stage (33 page)

“But we’re in a blackout. Nobody
would notice.”

“Ah, yes they would,” said
Dennis, thrusting the review at him. “The critic could see us, and
he was halfway back from the stage.”

Tony acquiesced and left it to
Dennis to tell the others.

That night they tramped on with
the couch all moving in step and on the beat, and the audience
broke into applause in the darkness. Dennis hoped his grin wasn’t
too obvious. Stardom, of a sort! He resisted the urge to take a
bow.

Every show seemed to get better
and better, with audience numbers building as word got around. They
shaved several seconds off their scene changes, and the
performances themselves got more polished. Jayden fitted into the
cast easily and his vampire routine was very successful. Nobody
lost any vital pieces of wardrobe, although a testicle was seen
escaping from a G-string at one point. It was nicknamed The
Hedgehog and a blurry photo of it was pinned up on the
notice-board.

Everything ran like clockwork,
until the second to last show of the run.

The dance routines had begun and
the four strippers were in full flight. Each of the four guys had
done their individual routines and the MC was doing the onstage
prize giveaway that was designed to keep the sponsors happy while
providing extra time for the guys to change into their Spanish
costumes. Dennis was watching from his place in the OP wing when
Jessica pounced on him unexpectedly and hauled him bodily backstage
into the Green Room.

“Dennis! You know the group
routine, don’t you? Ricky’s disappeared and we need you to take his
place. Quickly, we need to do your make-up.” She dragged him into
the make-up room and pushed him into a chair. Two women dampened
sponges and smeared foundation over his face, blending it in with
hurried strokes. “Damn, we should have got his shirt off first!
Jessica exclaimed, and they stood back as she pounced on him and
peeled off his black T-shirt, easing the neck-hole over his face to
avoid smearing the make-up. “Thank God you have a tan.”

“That was for my after photos,”
he began, but she was already reaching for his waistband.

“How far does it go?”

He grabbed at her hand. “All the
way. No need to inspect it.”

“All right, I think we’re done
here. Quickly, get into these.” She thrust some dark pants at him
and the spare Spanish jacket that had come with the set. “Hurry! Oh
God, do we need to shave round your G-string?” She reached towards
his jeans zipper.

“No!” yelped Dennis, “it won’t
be on display!”

He pulled on the clothes,
relieved to find that both pants and jacket fitted him well. He
struggled frantically to run through the dance moves in his head,
remembering who went where and the sequence of actions.

They hustled him out into the
wings where Jayden, Simon and Warwick were waiting, and the
struggling MC was rapidly running out of material.

The view was very different from
the Prompt side, and Dennis felt as if he’d changed sides from crew
to actor as well. His adrenaline was pumping and he was more alive
than he’d even been in his life.

The MC came off, wiping sweat
from his face and flicking back strands of blonde wig.

The lights went out. The music
blared and the audience cheered, eager to see more of the men they
loved.

The performers started to move
onto the stage. Just as he took the first step Dennis felt a hand
clutch his arm to hold him back. A voice hissed in his ear.

“It’s all right, Ricky’s here.
He’s going on.”

Dennis stepped aside and let
Ricky squeeze past him to take his place on the stage. The lights
came up, and the audience went wild. Again.

He stayed in the wings for a
while, letting the excitement drain away. At last he went
backstage, returned the costume and washed off the make-up.

Jessica was sympathetic. “I’m so
sorry, Dennis. It was awful to put you through that, and I know
you’d have been great on stage. Maybe another time, eh?” She gave
him a hug.

“So what happened? Why was Ricky
so late for his cue?”

She barked a laugh. “Ha! It was
those two goons that came here the other night. They just don’t
want to give up, do they? Ricky shot out to his car to have a quick
smoke and they were hanging around out back. They grabbed him and
threatened to beat him to a pulp if he didn’t take on dealing
steroids at the gym for them. He struggled like hell, apparently,
and managed to shout loudly enough that one of the crew out back
heard him and called the police. There was a patrol car nearby and
they grabbed the two heavies and arrested them. Jack’s going to be
delighted,” she grinned.

“So Ricky raced back inside just
in time to go on stage, did he? That was lucky! Well, for him
anyway. I bet he’ll be telling everyone all about it as soon as the
show’s over.” His tone dulled. He was still feeling the letdown,
and the departing adrenaline was leaving a prickly, uncomfortable
sensation all over his body.

“There’s some news I can tell
you, if you want to hear it? About Mark.”

He nodded. “Go on then.”

She looked around the Green
Room. “Somewhere quieter, I think.”

She took him up to her office
where he perched on the edge of the desk as his legs were still a
little bit shaky.

“Jack said Mark confessed to the
murder, but the charge is being reduced to something like
involuntary manslaughter. Since Vincenzo had apparently been giving
him steroids without his knowledge, he wasn’t fully responsible for
his actions while under their influence. And there was
provocation.” Her voice was grim. “Vincenzo was sleeping with
Sherry. Mark knew Vincenzo got her pregnant because Mark couldn’t
make love to her any more due to the steroids. When he tackled
Vincenzo about it, Vincenzo actually laughed at him. In a burst of
rage Mark picked up a dumbbell and hit him with it, then tried to
hide the body in the river.”

“So the actual killing was done
at the gym?”

“Yes, they’ve done the scene
examination and cleared the place to reopen already. I thought
you’d have known that.” She looked at him curiously. “Aren’t you
seeing Cathy?”

“I’ve been staying away so that
I didn’t spill the beans,” he said. “You told me that stuff in
confidence and I knew I couldn’t keep a secret from her.”

“Oh Dennis, you’re such a good
guy! Look, now that the case is pretty much closed, I’m sure it’s
OK for you and Cathy to talk about it. The sentencing will be
announced later but he’ll probably get something quite light –
maybe even home detention.” She grabbed him by the arms and pulled
him to his feet. “Go and see Cathy – she must be wondering what the
hell’s happened to you. Go Dennis, go now!”

He did.

Final night. There was a full
house, as word had got around that
Ladies Night
was the
hottest ticket in town and every female under fifty wanted to see
it before it closed. The audience could be heard hooting and
hollering even before the house lights went down, and Dennis
wondered how the actors were going to cope with an audience this
lively.

“They’re a rowdy lot,” commented
Gazza. “I bet the boys will have their hands full with some of
them, especially the ones in the hot seats.”

“Yeah,” moaned Ricky. “Half the
front row is full of women from my work. How am I supposed to dance
in front of them and take my clothes off? It’s so
embarrassing!”

“Just pretend they’re
strangers,” advised Tony. “Blank out their faces and imagine it’s
just another show. You’ll be fine.”

“If any of them are in a
position to give you a raise or a promotion,” suggested Gazza, “you
could give them some extra attention, if you know what I mean.”

Ricky turned pink but the wheels
in his head were clearly turning.

Tony made the obligatory final
night speech about keeping things sensible and refraining from
playing jokes, and the company took up their positions for the last
time.

All through the show Dennis felt
pangs of sadness as he thought ‘this is the last time we’ll ever do
this’ at each scene change. It was almost like leaving school –
that feeling of melancholy because the close friendships will never
be the same again and life is about to change. He tried to enjoy
every last moment in a rosy glow of sentiment. All the time a tide
of excitement was bubbling up inside him. He hoped the instructions
he’d given out would be remembered when the time was right.

At interval there was an extra
spread of goodies on the table. Clara-Jane squeaked with concern at
the cream-filled meringues and stood beside them, handing paper
napkins to any performer who took one with a stern admonition to
keep their costumes clean. Dennis noticed that she snuck two or
three herself, but whether that was to keep them away from the
actors or just for her own enjoyment, he wasn’t sure. His own taste
had moved away from such high fat, high sugar confections and he
was just as happy with the platters of fresh fruit that Erica had
thoughtfully provided. He nibbled on grapes and watched the rest of
the company chattering and laughing. Ricky was retelling the tale
of his legendary escape from the two villains, who had grown
considerably bigger with each new version of the story.

Dennis felt restless. He eased
himself through the crowd to the stage door and went down the
corridor to the street out front. Patrons were spilling out onto
the footpath to smoke, chat and make phone calls, their figures
bathed in golden light from the foyer.

A group of girls on the other
side of the street spotted Dennis and rushed over to him.

“Are you in the show?”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“Will you sign my T-shirt
please?”

He hesitated for half a second,
then shrugged. Why not – his name was in the programme after all.
He took the proffered pens and paper and scrawled as dashing a
signature as he could manage. Even across the tight white T-shirt
of the adoring blonde. They screamed and giggled and raced off into
the night clutching their trophies.

Dennis smiled to himself. It
felt like a good omen.

When the curtain finally came
down at the end of the show it was nearly impossible to convince
the audience to leave. They stayed in their seats, yelling,
clapping, and demanding the return of the strippers. Gazza turned
off the house lights but they still stayed put. Finally the four
guys, showered, changed and ready to socialise, invited the
audience to join them in the foyer bar.

As the scrum in the auditorium
receded, Tony and the rest of the stage crew were able to get on
with setting up for the after-show party. There was an occasional
tradition, after the right kind of show, for members of the stage
crew to put on a performance of their own. It was generally a
wicked lampooning of the actors’ performances and this show laid
itself wide open to their particular brand of affectionate mockery.
With stifled giggles, the crew set the stage ready to perform their
parts.

Out in the foyer the crowd was
slowly thinning. Dennis slipped around to come down the foyer
stairs and judge how long it would go on. He saw a group of women
bale up Warwick and Ricky by the bar and beg for autographs. One
girl handed Ricky a marker pen and opened her blouse. Without
batting an eyelid he signed across her breast, and signed
programmes for the others. Warwick, presented with the open blouse,
signed the other side with equally cool aplomb, but when the girls
had gone they turned to each other in shocked but delighted
disbelief. Dennis could see their lips form a few shell-shocked
words.

“Dude, that was a naked
breast!”

“Yeah, it was hot, wasn’t
it?”

They looked around eagerly for
more autograph hunters but the members of the public had dispersed
and only the cast, crew and friends were left for the official
Final Night Party.

The proceedings began in the
auditorium once everyone had been chivvied back inside,
well-provided with drinks and nibbles. Dennis sought out Cathy and
sat with her in the front row, holding her hand. She’d wanted to
sit out of the way further back but he insisted on going as close
to the stage as he could get.

Tony mounted the centre steps
and called the group to order, tapping on a microphone to check it
was working.

“Good evening!”

“Get yer clothes off!” came a
single voice among the other replies.

“No, I don’t think you’d want
that,” laughed Tony, patting his generous belly. “We have more
entertaining items on the agenda, thank God.” He launched into a
detailed list of thanks, covering everyone who had contributed to
the show. Popular members of the company got an extra cheer from
the crowd, and Dennis was delighted when Cathy was applauded for
her efforts in training the actors. He heard a few whoops for his
own name as well, and turned to see who might have been
responsible. Jessica waved, grinning, and Gazza gave him a
thumbs-up.

“And now it’s time for the
Golden Paddle Awards,” said Tony, pulling a tattered sheet of paper
out of his pocket. “Our traditional prize for the biggest stuff-up
that could be seen by the audience. I’ve had a wide range of
nominations, from just about every department. Wardrobe even scored
two.”

Clara-Jane looked indignant.
“Impossible!”

“And the nominees are…” Tony
paused for silence.

“Ricky Henderson, for missing
his cue and leaving our poor MC stranded on stage, reduced to
telling jokes he’d read in his last Christmas cracker.”

“Wasn’t my fault!”

“Next, a joint nomination.
Clara-Jane Smisek for producing a G-string that allowed the
Hedgehog to escape. And Warwick, the owner of the Hedgehog.”

There were cheers and shouts of
“Show us the other one!”