The Final Act (9 page)

“Feel better?”

“Yes.” Denny smiled. He glanced down at his body, salty and sticky from sweating under the stage lights, and his dick, drooping lifelessly on his belly. “Except I could use a shower. Want to?”

“In a bit.” Tom curled against him, nuzzling his face into his neck and laying a heavy arm across his chest. “Let’s lie here for a while first.”

Denny was glad to do that, too. He idly combed his fingers through Tom’s thick hair. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Within moments, they both slept.

The short nap lasted the entire night. Denny woke to sunlight pouring through the window and someone pounding on the door.

“Hey, lovebirds. Wake up and get up! I’ve got the morning papers. We have a review already from that chick at the
Trib
.” Logan’s voice boomed through the door. “Come down to breakfast. Everyone else is. Oh, and nice almost meeting you last night, Tom.”

Denny yawned and glanced at Tom, who was sound asleep. He was never easy to rouse in the morning. How he’d managed to wake to an alarm clock and get to work on time all these weeks without Denny there to prod him along was a mystery.

“Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?” Logan yelled again. “Bill says he needs some of his stuff from the room, so he’s giving you five minutes, then he’s coming in.”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Denny growled.

Tom grunted and rolled to his stomach, his arm flopping off the bed.

Denny pulled the covers off him with no result. Then he lay on Tom’s back and whispered in his ear, tickled him, kissed his neck and pushed his morning erection against his ass until Tom finally responded. “Mm. Morning.”

Denny kissed his dark stubbled jaw and thrust slowly against him, enjoying the slow glide of his cock in the groove between his cheeks.

Tom lifted his buttocks in invitation.

Denny rocked against him a few moments longer, seriously considered lubing up and pressing inside that delectable ass, but stopped.

“We’d better get a shower and dress, before Bill bursts in. I should’ve rented us a hotel room for the night. Having a roommate is like being back in a college dorm. It’d be nice if the producer footed the bill for single rooms.”

“Spoiled only child,” Tom teased. “Try growing up with two brothers in a room half this size.”

“Don’t start that ‘poor ghetto boy’ routine with me.” Denny tugged his hair and rolled off him.

They shared a quick, hot shower and a quick, hot fuck against the shower wall before dressing and going down to the hotel dining room. Roused by Logan’s wake-up call, most of the cast was there. They sat at several tables pushed together and almost every face was buried in a newspaper.

No one had expected to see a review so soon. The reporter from the
Tribune
must have filed her piece right after the performance for it to make the morning paper. At any rate, it was there in the entertainment section and the review was very positive.

“‘A high-voltage performance’,” Trinka read aloud. “‘The actors exploded with energy, their sheer enthusiasm covering the outrageous lapses in logic in Claude Benson’s play. But
Transitions
was never a Broadway hit because of a solid storyline. The emotionally moving music is what saves this show from mediocrity, and the vocalists in last night’s performance proved every bit as accomplished as the original cast’.”

“Not bad,” Logan said. “Listen to this part…‘The audience became a part of the dysfunctional group of friends, experiencing the comedy, romance and tragedy along with them’.”

“Everybody’s got a newspaper, and we can all read,” Michael pointed out, trying to get Logan to quiet down and give everyone some peace.

“Sounds even better out loud though,” Gretchen said. “Go ahead.”

Denny winked at Tom and squeezed his hand. “This is the gang.” They joined the others at the table, squeezing in between Elena and Cara. “This is Tom, everybody.”

There was a chorus of “Hello, Tom” spoken in ragged unison like elementary students welcoming a new kid to class.

“Oh-ho! Listen to this.” Elena’s eyes were trained on the newspaper in her hands. “This is why Michael didn’t want Logan to keep reading. ‘Michael Lucas gave a standout performance as Aaron, playing his character’s emotional epiphany with intensity and passion’.”

“Who’d you have to fuck to get that kind of praise?” Logan asked.

Michael ignored his roommate and sipped his coffee.

“Oh jeez.” Gretchen glanced at her watch and rose. “I’ve got to go. I’m meeting my family for brunch. Bye, Tom. Nice meeting you.”

The rest of the group continued to read and talk about the review and reminisce about the previous evening’s performance, while Denny and Tom ordered breakfast. The scent of breakfast meats and syrup had Denny’s stomach rumbling, reminding him of his skipped dinner last night.

One by one the others drifted off to meet loved ones who’d spent the night in town until only Denny, Tom and Michael were left at the table.

Michael refilled his coffee. “So, how long have you guys been together?”

“Five years,” Tom answered.

“Six years,” Denny said simultaneously.

They exchanged a look, and Tom raised his eyebrows. “Six?”

“We met six years ago in an online chatroom and talked for about three months before we finally met in person.”

“Then we made a date for coffee,” Tom continued. “Easily escapable if he turned out to be a loser.”

“But we hit it off right away and hooked up, that same afternoon, as I recall.” Denny grinned. “So, if we’re measuring from our first date, it’s been six years.”

“But it’s been five years since we moved in together,” Tom said. “Almost six. I guess we must have some kind of anniversary coming up. Paper, rock, scissors, something like that.”

“We should get matching tattoos to celebrate.” Denny covered his hand and nudged his knee underneath the table. He couldn’t get enough of physical contact now that he had Tom back.

“No.
You
get a tattoo. I’m not into unnecessary needles.”

“Aw, come on.” Denny glanced at Michael, who was getting a glazed look in his eyes at their banter. Evidently the Denny and Tom love-fest wasn’t as entertaining for him as it was for them. “Well, anyway. We’ll figure it out later.”

“I’ll see you again when you open in Philadelphia. It’s a quick trip from the city,” Tom said. “We’ll talk tats then.”

“Or maybe mutual piercings.” Denny waggled his eyebrows, suggesting a specific body part.

Michael groaned and shifted in his seat. “Please don’t say that.”

Tom glanced down at his crotch and shook his head. “Definitely not happening.”

Denny laughed, happy to have Tom with him and everything between them back to normal. Tom was right. Their relationship could weather him being on the road for a year. After all, they were Denny and Tom. Together they could do anything.

Scene Four: Girls’ Day Out

It was a balmy day in the Windy City for so early in the spring. Elena and Gretchen strolled the Miracle Mile, window shopping and enjoying a break from the dark cavern of the theater and the rigorous extra dance rehearsals the cast had endured over the past few days. Elena lifted her face into the sunshine and inhaled the exhaust-perfumed city air.

Gretchen pointed out a pair of heels in a store window. “Do you like those?”

Elena stopped and looked at the shoes. They were red with a small bow at the back of the ankle. “Yeah. They’re cute. We can go in so you can try them on, if you want.”

“What’s the point? I can’t afford them. I’ve got to stay focused. This is supposed to be an underwear expedition—bras, panties, socks. I can’t get distracted by shoes.”

“Money’s tight,” Elena agreed. “Acting isn’t as lucrative or glamorous as you expected, is it?”

“I love performing. When I’m onstage, I’m so happy and confident, but then I think about that
Variety
review and I start doubting what I’m even doing here.” She tapped her fingers against the glass as though to say goodbye to the shoes, and turned away.

“Is that review still bothering you? You can’t let that shit get to you. It was just one person’s opinion. Look at all the other reviewers who absolutely loved the show.”

“Sure, critics mostly love the show, but no other actor has been singled out as the ‘weak spot in the production’.” As they resumed walking, Gretchen recited, “‘More earnest than talented. Hamilton’s vocal range and acting ability reflect the extent of her limited theater experience. Perhaps with a few years maturity she might reach the level of adequate’.”

Elena flinched. The fact that Gretchen had memorized the words wasn’t good. “Look, the asshole was looking for something negative to say, probably read your credits in the program and saw you as a target. Some reviewers want to sound sharp and clever and end up just plain mean. You’re doing great work. You know you are. Everyone in the cast knows it. The audience sees it every performance. So stop reading reviews. Trust me, they’ll just mess with your head.”

Gretchen sighed and nodded. “I know. You’re right.” She halted again to gaze at a mannequin in a yellow sundress. “But it’s not only the review that’s bothering me. I miss home a lot more than I thought I would. Having my family here for those few days made me realize it. I couldn’t wait to get out of Chesterton, but now I just want to see home again. And then there’s this Jake thing…”

“Yeah. What is ‘this Jake thing’, anyway? Are you officially dating? Friends with benefits? What?” Elena was curious about the strange hookup between the taciturn loner and buoyant Gretchen.

“We’ve been spending time together, but I wouldn’t say we’re a couple.” She shrugged. “We’re not officially dating, and I have no idea what’s going on in his head.”

“I know the feeling.” Elena thought of Michael, who she couldn’t dislodge from her lusty daydreams, no matter how hard she tried. Sometimes it felt like they were friends. Other times he was withdrawn, off in his own mental world. “It’s not just Jake, sweetie. It’s fucking men in general.”

Gretchen leaned toward her and lowered her voice as though the people passing them on the sidewalk might overhear or care. “That’s part of the problem…fucking. Or not. We make out, but…well, I would’ve thought he’d want to do more than that by now.”

“Really?” Elena would never have guessed Jake was the type of guy to hold back from sex. “So you haven’t…”

“No, we haven’t. We spend time together—he’s been teaching me to play guitar—and sometimes it feels like we’re getting close, then he fades on me again. I can never get any kind of commitment about meeting at a specific place or time. He just shows up when he does. It’s like having a stray dog come around. I was going to introduce him to my family, and he disappeared until after they were gone. He’s so different from the guys I’ve dated in the past.”

“What do
you
want, Gretchen? Do you really like him? If you’re interested, maybe you need to be the one to take it to the next level.” Elena didn’t know why she suggested it, since she thought Jake was a little skeevy. If anything, she should be telling Gretchen she could do better.

“The next level. I’m not sure if that’s what I want, either.” She stared at a fast food bag lying on the sidewalk then looked up at Elena. “Can you keep a secret? From everybody, even Denny?”

“Of course.”

“I’m nervous about ‘the next level’. I haven’t technically had sex before, although my high school boyfriend and I did everything but. At the time I believed in waiting, but now… Man, I’m so ready. Jake’s an amazing kisser, and after we make out a while, I’m totally ready, but then he pulls back, which is really kind of weird since most guys push to go further. I don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, so how can I consider giving up my ‘V’ to somebody I don’t have a real relationship with?”

“Makes sense.” Elena wasn’t surprised to learn Gretchen was still a virgin, but was amazed Jake hadn’t pushed her into sex at the first opportunity.

“Do I listen to my hormones or my brain?” She picked up the crumpled bag and tossed it at the nearest trash can, making a basket. “And is Jake even interested in me?”

“Sexually? Of course.” Elena toed off her shoe and knocked a pebble from it. “Guys always want sex. Maybe he’s taking it slow because he thinks you want to. As to whether he thinks of you as someone special, who the hell knows. They say women are a mystery, hah! Men are the ones who are inscrutable.” She slipped her shoe back on and gestured to the sundress in the window. “Come on. You need a distraction. Try on that dress. You know you want to, and it’ll look great on you.”

They entered the cool, hushed interior of the expensive shop and found the yellow sundress on a rack.

As Gretchen went into the changing room, Elena poked through the tops on the reduced rack and found nothing under forty dollars. She’d lived frugally for far too long to be capable of splurging on overpriced clothes. She was still paying off her student loan and sending money to her mom every week. She’d probably always be a department store kind of girl.

“Looks great,” Elena said when Gretchen emerged, golden as a ray of sunlight with her pale blonde hair and the dandelion yellow dress. “You should treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You’re sure it’s not too…yellow?” Gretchen eyed herself critically in the mirror.

“You can pull it off. You’re one of the lucky ones who can do yellow. It makes me look sallow.” Elena stood behind her and smoothed Gretchen’s hair, tousled from putting on the dress. Their reflections in the mirror were a complete contrast: Gretchen, tall, Nordic and curvy, and Elena, olive-skinned, thin and petite.

Elena needed a haircut. The riotous black curls from the Hispanic side of her heritage threatened to overwhelm her slender face like an untrimmed hedge. For an instant, she flashed on what it felt like when Michael’s hands plunged into her hair and held her head steady while he kissed her. Sometimes his fingers got tangled and he pulled strands out trying to get them free. Her pussy tightened. She dragged her mind away from the memory of hot, passionate kisses that had nothing to do with real life.

Gazing into the mirror, Gretchen swayed back and forth, making the skirt swirl around her. She looked at the price tag again and shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m an upscale kind of girl.” She echoed Elena’s thought.