Page 60 of Character Flaws
She flops back down in the squeaky chair and sighs. “Fine. I guess I’ll figure out a different way. But I’m not letting you get away from me, Crawford. I will have my chance. You can bet on it.”
She winks and turns back to the computer as if dismissing me from her mind already.
I decide not to respond and walk down the hallway toward the breakroom where I hear the producer’s voice. He’s on the phone, I think. I slow my pace as I come to a stop just around the corner.
“That shipment was supposed to come in yesterday, John. We have unfinished sets for a production that opens this coming weekend. We need those products. Now.”
There’s a pause, and then he continues.
“You know I can’t pay for it upfront. You knew that and we verbally agreed to the pay half initially and then the remaining portion after the show’s opening. I don’t have that cash on me.”
Oh no. This can’t be good.
While this workshop is mostly volunteer, the only paid roles are myself, Birdie and the stage manager. Outside of that, everyone is volunteers, which means that the only overhead is the rental fees for the theater, and any set production costs.
If we can’t get a set built…oh shit. That’s huge.
I rub my temples where I feel the start of a headache coming on. This is the reason so many producers and directors become such assholes. It’s all the behind-the-scenes shit they deal with, along with the typical starlet and star egos they have to manage.
Thankfully since this is class performance with newbies, I don’t have that to contend with. Just a handsy-horny co-director who may very well end up tying me up in bondage and spanking me bare ass if I’m not extremely careful.
Niles gives a few more demanding pleas and then hangs up the phone with a curse.
“Fuck.”
I debate whether I should walk in there or not, but I’m in dire need of coffee so I take my chances.
“Morning, Niles,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can muster, pretending I didn’t overhear a portion of his phone call. “How’s it going?”
Doh.
He grumbles. “Fucking cretins.”
I pour myself a very large cup, locating the sugar packets and dumping a few in.
Turning back toward him, I lean my butt against the counter.
“Do I dare ask who you’re referring to?”
“Prop suppliers and lighting designers. Can’t get us what we need when we need them, even though I was promised they’d be available when I ordered them.”
I hum in understanding.
“Anything I can do?”
“Help me find some new set designers.”
“Okay. Difficult, but not impossible. I can make a few calls.”
We talk for a few more minutes when we hear a loud commotion coming from the main lobby.
Without thinking it through, we push through down the hallway to see an argument happening between one of our female actors and a man. A very large man.
“You’re coming home with me right this instant, Melody.” The big burly guy yanks on Mel’s arm.
She’s one of our ensemble cast and outside of showing up and participating, I know very little about her. But a lot is coming into view now.
“Go away, Tommy. Just go home and cool off. I’m not going anywhere with you in this state. You’re high and acting stupid.”
