Chapter 37
“Oh good, I caught you during a break,” announced Greg as he entered the empty rehearsal room.
“I’m tweaking the lyrics for a song,” said Derek flatly, hoping to discourage any conversation.
He’d actively avoided Greg the past few days since his mentor had welcomed Derek into what Zoe called the “little old boys’
club.” Sidestepping Greg wasn’t what he meant when he told her he’d take care of things with the artistic director.
Avoidance should count for something, considering the man had made it a habit to drop in every day to observe and then offer
a litany of suggestions once the cast was out of earshot. Greg’s feedback had gone from a trickle to a firehose since rehearsals
began. Derek pretended to take notes and ignored all of them.
Greg had been a no-show on Monday and Tuesday, which had been a huge relief. Derek had been able to pull so much vulnerability
and intensity from his actors that he’d gotten chills.
Derek knew it was too good to last.
“I was thinking we should extend the run,” Greg suggested.
“What do you mean?” Derek asked cautiously. The man had a motive behind everything.
“We’re skipping previews and invited dress rehearsal,” Greg clarified. “Let’s start the run earlier.”
“That means moving up opening night by almost two weeks!” Derek exclaimed.
“Exactly! It’ll coincide with the start of DC’s Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month Festival. The festival organizer thought
it was a great idea—which I put into her head.” He squared his shoulders proudly like a child waiting for a compliment from
his parents.
Derek silently counted to five so he wouldn’t scream.
“Greg, we can’t possibly be ready for the public after two and a half weeks of rehearsal.” Derek spoke slowly to hide his
growing panic.
“You’ll still have tech.”
Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes. The only thing predictable about tech rehearsals was that nothing ever went according
to plan.
“Derek, isn’t this what you wanted?” Greg’s face fell in real disappointment.
Derek clenched his fist.
“Yes, but not like—”
“Now that the show is one of the headliners for the festival, you’ll get more publicity. Word of mouth will spread across
the DMV.” Greg spread his arms out to demonstrate.
“If we keep our current schedule, people will see a more polished production,” Derek attempted to reason.
“Two extra weeks of shows means more ticket sales and will prove to the board and producers that there’s an audience for your musical.”
Greg’s emphasis implied that the success of the show rested on Derek’s shoulders. Of course it did. As the director, he’d
made all the casting and creative choices. It was his vision and he couldn’t let his team down. Or all the Asian people who
needed to see themselves represented onstage.
“I also want to give us a fighting chance. Which means giving the cast and the designers the time they need,” Derek said in a firm voice.
He’d allowed Greg too much leeway and now the man was trying to steer the production. Derek needed to regain control of the
ship.
“You said it yourself that they’re talented. Even the inexperienced designer, Zoe. Your team will figure it out.”
The man had tossed his words back at him. Derek opened his mouth but nothing came out. At least nothing that wouldn’t get
him fired.
“You’re in shock now, but this is a good thing. Besides, we can’t change our mind because marketing has already sent everything
out to the printers.”
“What?” Derek’s chest tightened as he forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He’d have no chance to change Greg’s
mind because the decision had already been made before the man walked through the door.
“I believe in you, Derek. I know you won’t let me down.” Greg clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget the better this show
does, the bigger your chances of getting my job when I retire.”
“But what if I don’t want—”
“I’ll give you the chance to personally share the good news with the cast,” Greg continued, ignoring Derek’s protests.
Greg flashed his perfectly white teeth in a smile, but all Derek could see was red. Greg gave Derek a thumbs-up before leaving
the rehearsal room.
“Fuck!” Derek screamed silently. Everyone would be back from lunch soon and he needed to regain his composure. He walked along
the tape that the stage manager had used to mark out the stage as if it were a meditation circle but rectangular instead.
“What the fuck was that?” Th ? o exclaimed. She’d come back early with two iced coffees in her hands.
“You heard?” He rubbed his forehead.
“I’m not even sorry for eavesdropping. I was headed up here when I saw Greg practically skip toward the rehearsal room.” She
set the drinks down.
He increased his pace, this time making tight military turns at the corners, something he’d learned during private school
assemblies. Heather had done a great job with the tape because it didn’t budge with the pressure he put on it.
“Derek, stop.” Th ? o grabbed his arm. “We can’t open the show in two weeks.”
“We can make it work,” he said with false cheer. He had to set an example for everyone and keep their spirits up.
“Don’t you fucking Tim Gunn me. This isn’t a game. It’s real life. If we fail, you know this show won’t get another chance.
We’re not Andrew Lloyd Webber. People aren’t lining up to throw money at us.”
“I know that!” Derek snapped. He immediately regretted it.
Th ? o’s lips quivered. She turned away from him and picked up her coffee. He followed her.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I need time to process the news.”
“Well, process faster because we only have ten minutes before everyone comes back.” She thrust his coffee at him with a wry
smile.
He stabbed the straw into the lid and took a deep breath before sucking down half of it. The ice cold elixir calmed the panic
threatening to take over his body.
“Thanks. I needed that.”
“Yeah, you did.” Th ? o lightly punched his arm. “Now what?”
“The good thing is that I get to break the news to the team instead of Greg.”
“Silver lining.” Th ? o’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Does Heather know?”
“I don’t think so. Greg’s only told the marketing department.”
“She’s gonna shit a brick.”
They both grimaced. Their superbly organized stage manager had scheduled their entire production, including rehearsals, tech
week, and preview performances, down to the half hour. Greg’s news would throw her fine-tuned machine—and her—completely out
of whack.
“I’ll tell her when she gets back. She’s always back before the actors.” Derek drank the rest of his coffee in one long sip,
as if it could inject energy into him for the long afternoon ahead.
“I’m so glad you’re the boss because that is a job I don’t envy.” Now it was Th ? o’s turn to walk the tape on the floor.
She’d been a little distracted this morning during vocal warm-ups but he’d chalked it up to her having an off day. Something
else was bothering her because she was pacing way too fast. Greg’s news had exacerbated whatever it was.
Derek sighed. He hadn’t been a very attentive friend to Th ? o since rehearsals began. He’d been too wrapped up in his own problems and completely missed how miserable she’d been since
Katie Mai arrived in DC.
“You cool?” he asked quietly.
“No. I’m not.” She sped up, making dizzying turns at the corners. “Katie Mai wants me to give her an answer by opening night.
And now I have two less weeks to avoid making the biggest decision of my life.”
“Come on, you must know deep down,” he prodded gently.
“I’m too chicken shit to drop everything and move to LA,” she blurted. “My life is in New York.”
“Even though you love her?”
Th ? o stopped and turned to face him.
“It’s because I love her. I don’t want to hold her back.”
“How would you do that?” Derek asked.
“She’s so smart and talented, but Hollywood is hard for people like us. Asian and queer. That’s two things against her. Us.”
“Katie Mai knows that already. It’s no different than theater.”
“But if she’s worried about me finding work in LA, it’ll be even more difficult for her.” Th ? o rubbed the shaved side of her head the way she did when she was worried.
“That’s not the only reason you don’t want to go,” Derek said.
She bit her lip and blinked rapidly.
“I’m in a good place here—I mean New York,” she admitted. “Our musical is my best work yet. Even if we don’t take it to Broadway,
I’ve already received queries about commissioned work.”
“That’s great news!” Derek’s spirits lifted. This musical was already opening doors for Th ? o. Soon the designers and actors would get more opportunities.
“If I move across the country, I won’t be able to network with New York theater folks. I don’t want to compose for movies.
I want to write musicals!” She opened her arms out and danced as if she were in A Chorus Line .
“You would definitely get cut dancing like that,” Derek teased. “It’s okay if you don’t want your career to take a back seat.
You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.”
Part of him wondered if he was pushing Zoe too far out of her comfort zone the way Katie Mai was with Th ? o. Zoe had established herself in DC as the premiere plus-size lingerie designer and she ran a successful boutique. If they
took the show to New York, would he be asking her to sacrifice doing what she loved?
No, he couldn’t be. Zoe practically glowed whenever he saw her working in the costume shop. She’d told him how much she loved
being back. Yet he’d had to beg her to join the production. Now Zoe would be under more pressure to complete her ambitious
costumes with their shortened timeline.
How much strain would the new timeline put on their relationship? He couldn’t lose her now, yet he’d put too much work into the musical. Derek would have to work even harder to make sure the production was everyone’s best work while making sure Zoe had everything she needed to finish the costumes on time. Even if it meant twenty-hour days.
“Hey, folks, are you ready...” Heather’s voice trailed off as she walked into the room to their somber faces. “Did someone
die?”
She laughed nervously. Derek took a deep breath and pointed to her work station.
“No, but you better sit down first.”