Beauties and the Beast (4 page)

Chapter Five

Billy Winter's face was death-wax white and his heart was beating like an out of control metronome. He was terrified when he stumbled back onto the stage. His appearance took Mickey by surprise, but Angela took it in her stride.

“So you changed you mind,” she said, with a told-you-so glance at Mickey, who was glad he hadn't made the bet. He thought that somehow he would have lost more than the money in his pocket.

“Yeah... I got lost.” The fear had lent a tremor to his voice.

“How could you?” said Mickey in disbelief, “The stage door is just at the end of the passage.”

“I don't bloody know.” Billy's pitch was close to hysteria. “I took a bloody wrong turn that's all.”

“Of course you did.” The soothing voice of a kindergarten teacher came from those diabolically sensuous lips. “But you've come back and it is almost time for the auditions so why not stay? Mr Thornton will be back at any minute now I'm sure, then we get started - and the sooner we get started the sooner it will be all over and we can move on to doing other things.”

Mickey caught a look of encouragement; Billy saw lust and a promise of vile pleasures.

“Sounds good to me,” enthused Mickey.

“Maybe,” muttered Billy, as he recovered a little from his attack of terror.

The conversation was interrupted then by the entrance of another woman. She brought a gasp from both the men. She was an eternal beauty, and yet everything Angela was not. She was tall, elegant, slim, and small busted. Her skin was pale as fresh milk... carved ivory... reflected moon. Her hair was red, deep auburn, the colour of chestnuts and fire. The eyes were sultry, and denied the coolness of her demeanour. They were also the same colour as her hair which was pulled back into a bun, neat, and efficiently held in place with ebony combs.

Mickey saw her Greek goddess features, blended into lineless perfection. Her suit, almost mannish, emphasised her femininity. Mickey wished she was wearing nothing but a man's white shirt.

Billy wished she was wearing nothing at all, his mind seeing little but the imagined burning bush at her thighs.

When she spoke it was with softness, a whispered breeze, a lick of candle light. But it carried authority. She cast a quick, intelligent eye over the two gaping men.

“Thornton?” she asked.

‘Who needs him,' thought Mickey. ‘There are two of them and two of us.”

The woman looked at him. The eyes x-rayed through him. “
We
need him,” she said. “Where is he?”

“He just stepped outside,” said Angela with a knowing smile, which the other woman acknowledged with amusement.

“You don't have to protect old big-head,” cut in Billy eagerly. “He's gone. He won't be back. He don't do auditions.”

Then Thornton almost ran onto the stage. Mickey stared aghast. His clothes were covered in grime, his face and his hand covered in filth. His eyes were wild and a line of froth covered his lower lip. He looked as if he'd just been to Hell and back. Mickey took his eyes off the actor and looked at Angela. His look was an appeal for help for the distraught actor. But there was no pity from the blonde. She froze Mickey with her merciless look

“I thought he'd change his mind,” said Angela.

Thornton fell to the boards, grovelling. “Help me.” It was the appeal of a man hanging on a cliff edge with one hand.

The women exchanged glances and closed in on Thornton. He shrank back, a foetal ball. A vein in his temple throbbed in time to an unheard jungle drum and his trousers were suddenly wet. He had experienced terror no-one could contemplate.

“Welcome back, Mr Thornton.” Diana's tone was level, toneless. “I do hope you'll stay.”

“Please,” frothed Thornton, “Help me. Let me go from here.”

“For God's sake...” Pity wrung the words from Mickey's mouth.

Snarls transformed the female faces. “No God can help him”, snapped Angela.

“No.” Diana's voice was urgent. “He must help himself.”

“He's bloody well scared out of his wits,” protested Mickey.

Thornton's panic ridden eyes, unfocused, tried to find the voice of comfort, but a look filled with venom from Angela cast a pall of ice over Mickey. He shrugged. It was Thornton's problem. The women made him well aware of that. He watched then with interest as the women closed in on the actor, but an undercurrent of apprehension sat under his belt. When would his turn come?

“So, Mr Thornton,” said Diana, conversationally. “What was it you wanted your God to help you with?”

Thornton, slowly unfurled his body. With a supreme effort he controlled the tremors that rocked his body.

“Was it something we said?” Angela's voice was reproachful.

Slowly Thornton stretched into a sitting position and his breathing slowed. He felt the wet patch in his trousers, cold and clammy on his leg and was embarrassed. Then he remembered what he had experienced. He felt the throb of unbearable pain ebb and flow through his anus. He breathed deeply.

“What are you?” he whispered, “his handmaidens?”

Angela's face clouded with a puzzled look that fooled Mickey and Billy, but not Thornton. “We are no-one's handmaidens,” she said. “You should know that.”

Thornton did - instantly - and as he looked into her eyes he saw something else they mocked him as if they'd just played the supreme prank and he'd fallen for it.

“Mirrors,” he muttered.

“I wonder,” said Diana.

Angela leaned over. “Help yourself Mr Thornton,” she said. “You usually do whatever the circumstances.”

Thornton's feeling then began to change. His sagging face showed his lack of understanding of the metamorphosis. He remembered, and yet he didn't. The horror hovered but he had no true recollection. It flitted like refracted light, a rainbow of memories just missing. The terror that had gripped his soul was fading as was his memory of the cause of that terror.

“You always help yourself.”

Thornton then gathered his shattered wits and struggled to his feet. “If I must, I must,” he said, pomposity returning.

Mickey stared. With the return of the actor's strength came a return to reality. Thornton stood, immaculate again, creased and dirty clothes were sharp and dry. He was poised and in control. Then Mickey was stunned at the transmogrification even before he heard Thornton's voice. The actor's power had returned. It was as if the scene just enacted had never been. Thornton stared down his nose at Angela and pretended Diana didn't exist.

“Would someone kindly escort to the door of these confounded catacombs.”

Diana's face lit up with beatific smile. She stretched out her arm and moved towards him.

“Belvedere Thornton,” the softness in her voice held a cache of awe. “I have been waiting a long, long time to meet you. Never have I wanted to direct anyone as badly as I want to direct you.”

Thornton drew back. He looked down on her and only his mouth spoke. “I allow no-one to direct me badly,” he said.

Mickey shook his head in bewilderment. The change was abnormal. But then, he had lost touch with what was normal and what wasn't. The tension dissolved and Mickey laughed. “God he's a gag a minute isn't he? I wish there were more like him around the traps. I'd never have to worry about a gig.”

Thornton glared at him, but he felt no fear from the little comic, who looked in directly in the eye, giggling.

Diana lowered her ignored arm but maintained her smile. “You misunderstand me,” she said evenly.

“I misunderstand no-one, ever.” Thornton was thundering in great actor mode again. He paused for effect. “Some people,” he continued, “are vague, some are inarticulate. You seem to fit both categories.”

Diana's smile grew wider. “My, we are touchy today aren't we?”

Thornton raised a craggy, still-black eyebrow. “Touchy!” The voice then dropped to a menacing, controlled fury. Thornton enjoyed using his stage trickery in everyday conversation.

He continued: “I am asked to come to a theatre, and it turns out to be this decrepit flea pit. I meet these two miserable morons and when I try to leave I discover that someone has removed all the exits signs. I am not touchy madam, I am FURIOUS!” The final word rang in the rafters.

There was silence. Mickey's bewilderment completely dissipated and he became amused at the great actors' reluctant admittance that he had lost his way in the darkness. Billy was dumbstruck by the performance. He'd never seen anything so... big. Over the top, to Billy, would have been an understatement. Angela looked on eyes wide, eager with anticipation.

The silence was broken by Diana. In a voice dripping with more menace than Thornton could gather in months of rehearsal she said: “Then you must contain your fury. Emotions have no place in my auditions.”

“Auditions,” Thornton thundered. He paused and stared at Mickey and Billy. “This is the most grossly miscast production in the history of the theatre, and I don't do auditions”

“Mr. Thornton,” Diana said. Menace hovered like a soaring hawk. “I have directed the greatest plays, many of the greatest stars and my casting is always perfect.” She cast an approving eye over Mickey and Billy. “And
I
do not make mistakes.”

Thornton felt his heart flutter. A peculiar sense of fear was seeping in, but he held his ground. “You mean it. You actually expect me to work with these ...” His mind could not focus on an utterance debased enough to express his feelings about his fellow auditionees.

Diana moved closer to Thornton. The big man felt power, an unearthly power, and an almost overwhelming power. He began to sweat. “Mr Thornton,” she said softly. “For years I have waited for the right vehicle for you and now I have it. I don't call anyone for audition unless they are right for me.”

Thornton was mesmerised by the auburn glitter of Diana's eyes.

Angela crossed to him and stood close. Again there was the power and Thornton could feel the life being drained from his body.

“What do you want from me?” It was a plea for mercy.

Angela spoke. “Performance Mr Thornton. That's what we want, performance from the best in their field; superb performance, performance that will have an opening night audience leaping to their feet and the critics searching through the thesaurus for new words of praise.”

“It'll have to be something bloody good to get that reaction,” said a sceptical Mickey.

Diana fixed her uncomfortable gaze on the comic and he dropped his eyes immediately.

“It is indeed that bloody good,” said the red-head. “It has high drama, comedy, tragedy, and music and it comes from the pen of a writer with an impeccable pedigree.” She paused. There was silence, a silence that screamed with suspense. Mickey couldn't stand it.

“Well?” he burst out. “What is it?”

“It is,” said Diana, “a new play by William Shakespeare.”

“He's dead,” said Billy. “How can he write a new play?”

“It's a newly
discovered
play,” added Diana hastily.

Thornton lost his fear suddenly and he burst into laughter. “A newly discovered play by the bard?” he said. “What rubbish. You've brought all of us here under false pretences and I shall see you don't get away with it. Fraud is a serious business.”

“It's no fraud,” said Angela lightly. “Trust me.”

Billy snorted a laugh. “What are you, a doctor?”

Mickey greeted the joke with a snigger.

“It is as authentic as
Hamlet
or
Caesar
.” Diana‘s voice cut through the hilarity. “It is documented beyond doubt.”

Thornton recognised sincerity when he heard it. His curiosity was aroused. “Fully documented you say? Might I have a look at the script?”

“Not yet, Mr Thornton, our backer, Mr Joshua Lucy, has the script and it on his insistence that this little meeting has been arranged. As you might imagine, security is tight. We can't allow a word of this project out until we are ready to go.”

“Hence this outlandish little place!” said Thornton. “Where is your Mr Lucy?”

“He prefers to stay in the background.”

“He stays in the background all right,” muttered Mickey. “I haven't seen a soul apart from you two.”

“Oh, you'll get to meet him,” smiled Angela. It was the hot smile. “He likes to see where his money goes.”

“He's invested heavily?”

“Indeed he has Mr Thornton,” said Diana, with overly deep sincerity. “This production will never be short of funds.”

“Does this mean I get the chance to go ligit?” Mickey's interest was strong.

“You'll get the chance to use all your talents, Mr Finnegan.” Mickey enjoyed the way Angela said that. It was a sentence full of promise. You
can
teach an old dog new tricks then.

“I've always wanted to go ligit,” said Mickey, “do a straight play, act.”

“What, in that suit?” Billy laughed. “The only thing you can do is act the fool - and you don't do that very well.”

“And what part will you play, you skinny bean pole?” Mickey retorted. “How will anybody hear you without an amplifier? With a voice like yours you wouldn't even get to sing in the chorus.”

“Gentlemen, please.” There was gentle reproach in Diana's voice. “There is a perfect role for each of you - each one a lead too. Now, I'd really like to get to know you all better.”

Thornton sighed impatiently. “Can't we just get with this... audition? My time is valuable you know. I need to rest between performances;
Othello
is a very demanding role.”

“
Othello
is nothing compared to the complexity of your new role.”

It was uttered as a simple statement of fact, which Thornton took to heart. “I suppose the star must be accommodating,” he pronounced as he swaggered to the grey table and pulled out a chair.