Page 4 of Finding Finn
“So, who’s the new person?”
“Well, they should be arriving sometime soon. His name is Finn Ferguson, and he’s from New York. He even did a couple of Broadway shows. I haven’t met him yet. The board did the interviews. Buffy went to pick him up so I could come over here and meet you.”
“Finn, huh? Well, I hope he fits in and understands what the playhouse means to the community. It’s always good to have new ideas. I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
“He’s probably an asshole. I’ve already decided that it will be a miracle if we get along. I really love that we went with the red and gold curtains for the stage. They’re gorgeous.”
“I’m trying to book one fairly large act a month for the resort, and the rest of the time I’m hoping to keep this theatre running on the weekends with some local acts. I had no idea there wereso many bands in town. Did you know that little Timmy Johnson has a Journey cover band? My mind was blown.”
“Yeah, I saw them at Pints and Pool a couple of years ago. He’s pretty damn good. Who knew he could sing?”
“I didn’t. He was one of the only reasons I got through calculus. He put up with my bullshit while my dad paid him to tutor me. I was so mean to that kid.”
“Dude, you were always mean. It’s so fucking good to have you back in town. I’ll introduce you to Finn after he gets settled in. We should grab a drink sometime soon, though. Tell Percy hi from me. I really need to stop by the bakery soon. I’ve been craving a cupcake.”
“I will. See you later, bro. Good luck with New York City. I hope that you're wrong about him,” Ben chuckled.
“I’m sure I’m not.”
I waved as I walked out of the theatre and into the small lobby. Ben had really done an amazing job with the new resort. Who knew he had all of this in him? It really expanded our city and what the shopkeepers in town could do. I was glad that he thought about the playhouse. If we did six weekends here to full houses, it could add a hundred and fifty thousand dollars to our operating budget. That was massive during a time when grants for the arts were drying up. When a government tried to shut down the arts, you knew that we were in trouble. We were in the thick of it right now.
Thankfully, California still took care of its small art partners. So did the town. As a non-profit arts organization, every dollar we raised was tax-deductible. That helped a lot. Every business in town, and most of the citizens, contributed to the playhouse. It had kept us alive. Foggy Basin was proud of what it had and made sure to take care of it.
I walked through the grand entrance and marveled at the fancy restaurant that overlooked the huge hotel lobby and bar.A massive stone fireplace stood against the far wall with a bunch of leather couches and chairs surrounding it. It really was beautiful.
But now I had to get back to the playhouse. I walked down Main Street and waved at all the people I knew. I loved my hometown. Most people dreamed of getting away from the place they grew up, and when I was younger, I did too. But after I graduated and thought about where and what I wanted to do, there was only one place that was right. Foggy Basin was home, and all of my best memories were here. The people I looked forward to seeing were here, and most importantly, so was the playhouse.
I turned down the little street that the locals branded Arts Alley, and halfway down, I saw something so completely out of place that I can still remember the first time I saw it. An old steam engine and caboose that had been converted into a small bar space. These steel engines of another time were placed directly beside the main entrance to the Foggy Basin Playhouse. It really was a beautiful sight. A long wooden deck stood to the right, where we did outdoor cabarets and a Shakespeare production every summer. Through the red doors to the left was the small lobby, and beyond that, the redesigned theatre of my youth. A space that could hold two hundred people every night that we had a show.
The stage was a giant rectangular space that was floor level, and the eight rows of seats climbed upward with every row. My space, the sound and light booth, sat in the back corner. It was heaven, and I was proud to be back there for every one of our productions. Well, maybe not that last production of Oklahoma.
Sometimes a show is just doomed, and Oklahoma almost killed us all. By the time it ended, because of a stomach flu that ran through the entire cast, we had different leads almost every night. They had to hold scripts in their hands because when achorus person who could barely carry a tune had to take over the lead, it was always a disaster. We’re a community theatre. We’re here to have fun, to entertain our friends and neighbors, and to do the best show that we can. We don’t have understudies. Hell, sometimes, we can barely get enough adults to audition that we have to beg people to be a part of the show. Men, especially, are the problem. We try to make sure that our productions are female and child-heavy in the cast.
I really hoped Finn was cool. This could all go very badly very quickly if he wasn’t. I did not have high hopes. He’d probably hate it here and not last a full season.
I did my first show at the playhouse when I was five years old. I was one of the only football players in school to have a love for the performing arts, and when it was time for me to start college, I went to Berkley and studied technical theatre. I hated being on stage by the time I started high school. It was probably because bullies like Ben and Petey would have made fun of me singing and dancing. I guess I used to love it, though.
Now I loved creating the look and feel of a production. I designed and oversaw the building of the sets, the stage lighting, and the sound for every show we did. It didn’t matter how good the show was if you couldn’t see it or hear it, as I reminded most of our directors when they wanted to change something I designed. I had my place, and they had theirs.
I was sure that in New York City, things were different. But here in Foggy Basin, I knew my place and hoped that Finn would know his.
My reflection startled me as I passed by the lighting booth window. God, I really had filled out. Now that Ben was back in town, I started working out with the boys again. Tim and Ben pushed me hard, and the progress I made was impressive. My arms, shoulders, and chest were looking great, and if I worked hard enough, I’d get my six-pack back the way those two still do.I ran my fingers over my dark buzz cut and straightened my dark glasses.
I looked good.
So why was I still single? It wasn’t like the well was dry in this town. For a small place, we had a pretty large LGBT population, and there were some pretty hot guys around. The problem was, I either knew them from high school or they just weren’t into me. I had a few dates with some guys, and after one drink and stilted conversation, we knew that there was no point for a second.
I liked sports and theatre. I enjoyed a good movie. My favorite food was a steak, and I drank cheap beer. To most gay guys, I was an enigma. One day, I knew I’d meet the right person, but I was getting really tired of waiting and falling asleep on my couch alone. I wanted someone to curl up in my arms and put their head on my shoulder.
It would happen one day – or it wouldn’t.
“Jim!” Buffy screamed from the lobby. I heard the heavy door slam behind her. She always did that and drove me crazy.
“In here, Buff,” I called and moved over to the front row of chairs and sat down. She had just picked up our new leader, and I was interested in hearing what she thought.
“You are not going to believe it,” she laughed as she walked into the theatre and stood in front of me. “Seriously, bro, I can’t wait for you to meet him. He had the best luggage. Bright pink with purple polka dots. You know what that means?”
“He has horrible taste?”
