Chapter 44
Derek was relieved when six o’clock rolled around. The cast had been dismissed. Heather had cleaned up her stage management
table and gone home.
“I could sleep for a week,” declared Th ? o as she stretched her arms over her head. She sat on the floor leaning against a black wooden cube that stood in for a chair
or stand or whatever it needed to be until the set was completed.
“You’re too much of a workaholic to do that,” Derek teased.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Go home. Or at least to Katie Mai’s for the night.”
“Oh, I plan to.” Th ? o grinned. “As soon as I can make myself stand up.”
He offered a hand to help pull her up.
“Am I interrupting a trust exercise?” Greg asked as he entered the room. “Do I get a turn?”
He laughed loudly at his own joke.
Crap. Derek had forgotten about his meeting with his mentor. He could barely stand up straight after their all-nighter. Now
he had to deal with Gregzilla. A small delirious laugh escaped before he bit his lip to stave off the rest of it.
Th ? o gave him an Are you okay? look. He nodded.
“Yes. I mean not a trust exercise.” Derek helped Th ? o stand up. “We were just wrapping up for the night.”
“Perfect time to finish our earlier discussion. Alone.” Greg looked pointedly at Th ? o.
“That’s my cue.” She grabbed her bag with newfound energy and stuffed her binder of sheet music into it. “I’ll check in with
you tomorrow morning, Derek. Have a good night, Greg.”
She waved and bolted out the door. Derek couldn’t avoid Greg any longer.
“Let’s sit.” Derek nodded toward Heather’s table.
Greg sat across from him and pulled out his annoying, tiny notepad. Instead of flipping it open, he set it down and stared
at Derek, who shifted uncomfortably in the folding metal chair. Whatever the man had to tell Derek, he didn’t want to hear
it.
“The stumble through was abominable, Derek.”
Derek’s stomach knotted. Greg wasn’t sugarcoating anything this time.
“It’s my fault. We gave them a song at the last minute and changed up the opening number.” He pinched his thigh to force himself
to stop rambling.
“I’m going to put everything on the table.” Greg crossed his legs and sighed dramatically. “I’m extremely disappointed in
you.”
Derek’s gut twisted. It was one thing for him to think about his failure but another to have it spoken so plainly. He’d spent
years working with Greg as a mentee in order to earn an opportunity like writing and directing The Brocaded Slipper .
“I’m disappointed in myself, too,” he admitted after a beat. In his head, Derek replayed scenes of the actors actually stumbling
over their choreography during the stumble through. He rubbed his temple.
“It’s obvious that you’re in way over your head.”
“I’m what? No, we’ll get it right before tech starts.” Derek shook his head. “I have a plan.”
“I’m your mentor. You can admit it to me.” The man’s smile was almost predator-like.
“I told you. I have a plan.” Derek gritted his teeth. He was almost too exhausted to repeat himself so that Gregzilla actually
heard his words. But he would if he had to.
“Of course. But if you can’t pull this show together by tech, it’ll reflect badly on me. I put my reputation on the line for
you because I believed in your vision, Derek. What will I tell the board if you fail?” Greg ran his thumb across the bottom
edge of his notepad.
“That’s not going to happen,” Derek said unconvincingly. His sleep deprivation made it challenging to keep his defenses up
against his mentor.
“If you can’t make this show look good before we start tech, then I’ll take over as director.”
“You’ll do what?” Derek wanted to punch the smirk off Greg’s face. “Has this been your plan all along?”
“Why would I do that? I’m offering to save your ass.” The man’s blue eyes grew hard.
“I’ve worked too hard for you to take this from me. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Derek despised the desperation in his voice.
“I’m glad to hear that because I have some ideas.” Greg picked up his notepad and flipped it open.
Derek wanted to burn that notepad full of Greg’s stupid suggestions. Acting irrationally now would only prove Greg’s point.
“I have one major note after the stumble through: too much Vietnamese.” The man pronounced it with an extra syllable: vee-et-nam-ese.
“Audiences will be confused. How can they fall in love with the musical if they don’t understand it?”
Derek’s eyes twitched but at least that meant he could keep them open.
“I disagree.”
“You need to,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard Derek, “change all the Vietnamese dialogue and all the Vietnamese in the songs to English.”
“How am I supposed to find time to do that when you moved up opening night?” Derek threw his hands up in frustration.
“If you’d taken my advice and wrote everything in English the first time, you wouldn’t have this problem. We need this show
to make money and right now ticket sales are almost nonexistent. And Vietnamese songs won’t sell to anyone else but Vietnamese
people. Unless you know a millionaire who’s Vietnamese and wants to become a producer?”
Unable to come up with a retort, Derek shook his head. Deep down, he’d had doubts about the all Viet numbers but chalked them
up to being unable to understand their nuances. Th ? o had her heart set on them and he’d been happy to give her creative control for the songs.
“If you want to remain the director of The Brocaded Slipper , you’ll need to take my advice.” Greg grinned. “That’s so much easier to say. You took my advice about the title, so now
just take it for the rest of the musical.”
Derek sighed. If Greg took over the show, he’d absolutely ruin it. Or what if it was a hit? That would be even worse. Greg
would take credit for everything. Derek would rather make concessions than have the show taken away from him.
“I’ll change the songs. But not the dialogue.” He hoped his concession was enough to appease the man.
Greg raised an eyebrow as he considered the counteroffer. Derek’s stomach sank as the silence stretched.
“Dialogue, too. For the good of the production.” Greg stood up and tucked his notepad into his shirt pocket. He offered a
handshake. “Can you have everything rewritten for tomorrow’s rehearsal?”
“I’ll do my best,” Derek said dejectedly as he shook the executive director’s hand. Greg had shoved him in a corner and this was the only way out.
“See you tomorrow at ten then.” Greg smiled smugly. “I knew you’d see it my way.”
The man patted Derek on the back and left.
Derek’s skin burned where Greg had touched him. His stomach threatened to empty its contents. That man had never been his
mentor. He was a bully who’d only used Derek to make himself feel bigger and more important. Deep down he’d known that but
Greg had given him so many opportunities that Derek never thought he would be bullied, too.
“What the fuck, Derek?” Th ? o stood in the doorway with her fists clenched by her sides. Betrayal shadowed on her face.
Derek cringed. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to learn that you’re undoing all of my hard work, especially that duet. That song is my favorite.” Her voice wavered
as if she might cry.
“I had to.”
He ran up to her but she held her hands up and backed away from him.
“He threatened to take—” He stopped, unable to repeat Greg’s words. He was embarrassed to admit that the situation had gotten
to this point.
“I don’t care if he threatened to kick you in the balls. How could you agree to that without talking to me first? We’re supposed
to be cowriters.”
Derek blew out a breath in relief. She’d missed the part where Greg basically blackmailed him. Th ? o would’ve told Katie Mai and then news would spread like wildfire. Once that happened, he’d lose control of the show. Worst
of all, he’d lose everyone’s trust.
“It’s too late. I already agreed to put all the lyrics in English.” His voice sounded flat in his ears, as if he were still numb from his conversation with Greg.
“We worked hard on that duet. It’s the moment when the sisters’ bond is solidified. It’s the most pivotal part of the retelling
because without it neither of them has agency.”
“That’s why we need to make it more mainstream. Most of our audience will be English speakers.” Including me, he almost added.
“That mediocre white man wants you to dumb down the show and you didn’t even push back.”
“Not true.” Derek’s spine stiffened. “We’re meeting people where they’re at.”
Th ? o shook her head as if she didn’t believe him.
“You fucking let him get into your head,” she accused.
“Th ? o, we originally wrote half of the duet in English. We can rewrite the other half tonight,” he pleaded.
“You do it because I’m not pulling another all-nighter. I have a girlfriend who needs me.” Th ? o ran over to the keyboard they used for rehearsal and dug through a bin. “I forgot my notebook.”
“Th ? o.” Derek took a deep breath before forcing himself to say, “I’m the director, which means I have the final call. The song
will be rewritten as soon as possible.”
It hurt to put his foot down with Th ? o, who was basically a big sister to him. But he didn’t see another way of saving the show from Greg.
“You did not just pull rank on—” Th ? o huffed. “I’m going to pretend we didn’t have this conversation, because neither of us has slept in forty-eight hours.”
She found her notebook and shoved it into her messenger bag. Avoiding his eyes, she ran toward the door, only to be stopped
by Zoe.
As if the day couldn’t get any worse. Derek wished he could hide under the table and wait for everything to fix itself.
“What’s going on?” Zoe asked as she looked at him and Th ? o.
“Apparently my name on the show doesn’t mean shit to him,” Th ? o exclaimed as her eyes shot daggers at him. She turned back to Zoe. “You’re the only person he’s ever cared about. Talk some
sense into him.”