Body on the Stage (9 page)

“Right then, for now, we’re to
dig out a couch, two old dining chairs, an armchair, and,” Gazza
consulted the page, “a couple of wooden beer crates. Follow me to
the furniture bay.” Head bowed to avoid hitting the wire-caged
sprinkler heads, he took Dennis further into the dimly-lit
labyrinth of passages than he’d been before, into an area where
ancient chairs were piled up on each other like the fossilised
remnants of long-closed cafés.

“Pick out a couple that look
sound, would you? They don’t have to match. I’ll go find an
armchair and a sofa.”

Dennis picked up a few dusty
chairs and set them on their feet. It was hard to see how sturdy
they were when the concrete floor was so uneven, but he made his
choices and went to see if Gazza needed help with the armchair. He
found one sitting on its own with small clouds of dust still
swirling in the air, lit by the 40 watt bulb in a wire frame
directly above it. There was a grunt and a scrape from the darkness
beyond.

“Is that you, Dennis? Come and
give a hand with this, will you?” Gazza’s voice was muffled. Dennis
groped his way forward and saw Gazza bent over in the gloom,
tugging on the end of a roll-top couch. He squeezed past and tried
to locate the other end under a pile of material that he pushed
back and held up with his shoulder. He squatted down to lift with
his legs and found it surprisingly easy, hauling the couch free
with a smooth pull upwards. Gazza, lifting on the other end, let
out a curse as he stepped back and his arm banged against a
pillar.

“Ow, there’s a feckin’ nail
sticking out. Some idiot could really hurt himself on that.”

As they carried the sofa into
the light Dennis saw a line of blood running down Gazza’s forearm.
“Looks like someone did,” he said. “Put the couch down and stand
still. That needs looking at before you go any further.” Too
surprised to resist, Gazza obeyed. Dennis inspected the gash as
best he could under the light then pulled out a clean white
handkerchief and tied it round the cut. “Hold that above your heart
and we’ll go and wash it out,” he said. “I presume you’ve got a
First Aid kit on site somewhere?”

“Er, yeah, up by the toilets.
But hold on, it’s just a scratch. No need to make a song and dance
about it. I’ll slap some Dettol on it later.”

“No, it’s more than a scratch,”
insisted Dennis. “And that nail was rusty. How up to date is your
tetanus shot? Come on, we need to get that clean right now.”

They made their way back onto
the stage and Gazza led the way through the Green Room, past the
kitchen, and up two steps to the First Aid box next to the shower
and toilet. Dennis ran hot water into the hand-basin and poured a
few drops of disinfectant into it. He cleaned the blood off the cut
and let Gazza get a proper look at it.

“See? That could go very nasty
if it’s not treated right. If you left all that dirt and dust in
there you’d have an infection that would put you out of action for
weeks.”

“Yeah, fair enough. Carry on,
Doc.” Gazza allowed Dennis to finish cleaning the wound. He applied
a dab of disinfectant cream and covered it all up with a good-sized
sticking plaster.

“There, that should be safe
enough. Are you sure your tetanus is up to date?”

“Yep, no worries, had one the
year before last when a nail-gun took a pot-shot at me.” Gazza
grinned. “Thanks, Doc. I’m sure that’ll be good as new in no time.
Now can we go back and get that bloody couch?”

Once they’d collected all the
furnishings on the list Gazza called for a coffee break.

“That’s the standard treatment
for a minor injury, isn’t it? A cuppa and something sweet to eat?
Best you put the kettle on, Doc.”

“Doc?” queried Tony as he
entered the Green Room, brushing dust off his jeans.

“Yeah, the Doc here patched me
up real good after a nail made a hole in my arm.” Gazza displayed
the neatly-dressed wound. “Reckon we should keep him on – he’ll be
handy for all those injuries we get doing set construction.”

“What are you like with fainting
women, Dennis?” Tony asked. “We’re bound to get a few of those with
this show. Full houses, hot auditorium, naked men running around –
they’ll be dropping like flies out there.”

Dennis looked sideways at him.
“Don’t you have trained Front of House staff for that sort of
thing?”

“Just Gerry the fireman, and
he’ll be too busy checking all the fire exits and stuff. No mate,
if you’ve got any first aid experience we’ll be needing you to pick
up all the limp bodies and fan them back to life.”

“Could be your lucky day, Doc.
Could meet the girl of your dreams and have her swooning in your
arms needing the kiss of life.”

Dennis relaxed, realising he was
being teased. “OK, I’m in. Can you provide me with an official
uniform and a good sturdy stretcher? Some of those women will
probably be more than I can carry alone.”

They laughed. “Nah,” said Tony,
“by the time you’ve done all that training at the gym you won’t
need any help.” He looked at Dennis more carefully. “Hey, have you
actually started losing weight, Doc? Your face looks thinner,
doesn’t it Gaz?”

Gazza squinted at Dennis.
“Suppose so. Can’t say I’d noticed.”

“Yeah yeah,” laughed Dennis.
“Nice try, Tony.”

“No seriously, you really do
look thinner. Not a lot, mind you, but there’s definitely a
change.”

Dennis was absurdly pleased. It
would be great to report back to Cathy that someone had noticed a
difference in how he looked. Clearly her expert advice was having
the desired effect.

“Well, er, thanks. I’m certainly
working on it. Although some of those actors seem to be bulking up
much more quickly than I am.”

“Well you’re trying to thin
down, aren’t you, not bulk up? Don’t worry, when all that fat goes
away you’ll probably find a rippling six-pack underneath! I know I
had one once.” Tony patted his solid belly. “It’s probably still
there a few inches down.”

“You should join us at the gym.
Cathy would soon help you find it again.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to
happen! Exercise and healthy living? No thanks. I’m not giving up
my beer, it’s the only thing keeping me sane after a hard day’s
work.”

“You actually think you’re
sane?” said Gazza.

Dennis ran up the stairs to the
gym that night, eager to share Tony’s comment with Cathy before his
workout. She wasn’t in her office, and when he heard the tinkling
music coming from the yoga room he remembered she had a class to
teach and was probably getting the room ready. A burst of feminine
laughter echoed up the stairwell and he turned to see Mark arriving
with a very pretty blonde girl.

“Hey Dennis, how’s it going?
Ready for a hard-out upper-body workout today? This is my
girlfriend Sherry.”

“Hi Sherry, nice to meet you,”
said Dennis politely, not quite sure whether he should shake her
hand. What was the correct etiquette in the gym where people were
half-dressed in fairly revealing sports gear? To his surprise she
leaned in and gave him a quick hug.

“Hey, Dennis! Mark’s told me
about you – it’s good to see you,” she said warmly. “I think it’s
great you’re joining the guys in training – God knows they need
somebody sensible to keep an eye on them.”

“Hey!” protested Mark, “that’s
enough of that. Be off to your yoga class, woman. Let us real men
get on with our grunting and sweating in peace.” He swatted her
shapely bottom as she headed for the yoga room. “See you
afterwards, sweetheart.”

“OK babe. Bye Dennis – have fun!
I’ll expect to see you soaking wet and sagging by the time you’ve
finished a full-on session!”

He smiled and nodded,
unconsciously relaxing his stomach muscles once she disappeared to
join her class.

More voices in the stairwell
heralded the arrival of Ricky and Simon, looking almost comic
together as the shortest and tallest members of the cast.

“Still having a go at this, are
you mate?” Ricky asked Dennis. “Got to give you points for trying,
I suppose.”

They picked up their workbooks
from the box on the counter and got down to the serious business of
cardio endurance and pumping iron. Dennis was pleased to find that
he was wheezing less and less after each cardio session on the
rowing machine, and he could handle the steady increase in weights
Vincenzo had written into his plan. He was still near exhaustion by
the end of their hour-long session, but felt he’d made some
improvement.

Sherry and Cathy were last to
come out of the yoga room when the rest of the women had dispersed,
and from the way they looked across the room, Dennis had the
uncomfortable impression that they’d been talking about him. He
felt a flush rising in his already beetroot-red face. He towelled
off the sweat and tried to ignore them.

Vincenzo appeared as Sherry made
her way between the machines towards Mark, intercepting her with a
charming smile.

“Hello, Princess, good to see
you looking so beautiful. You must have been inspired by your yoga
class to glow like that. You have an inner light about you.”

Dennis saw Sherry’s eyes
widen.

“Wow, it’s not often I get a
compliment like that,” she said.

“You should be worshipped every
day,” declared Vincenzo. “A woman so beautiful is a gift to the
world.”

Mark left the machine he was
working on and went over to reclaim his girl.

“You are the luckiest man in the
planet,” said Vincenzo, clapping him on the back. “Take care of
this precious jewel, my brother, she’s a very special lady.”

Sherry blushed and giggled.

“Yeah, right,” said Mark drily.
“Come along, my little lotus flower, it’s getting late and we have
to pick up groceries on the way home tonight, remember. We’re out
of drain cleaner and cat litter.” He almost pulled her away from
Vincenzo.

“Oh the romance of it all,”
sighed Sherry as they headed for the locker rooms hand in hand.

There was a loud clang from the
weights area and all eyes turned in that direction.

“Let’s see you beat that then!”
crowed Ricky, strutting like a cocky bantam rooster in front of his
tall blond workout partner. Simon eyed him gravely.

“You’re not supposed to drop the
bar at the end of the lift. If you were properly in control you
would have lowered it to the floor.”

“Crap!” Ricky snapped. “They
drop them in the Olympics all the time. You’re just mad that you
can’t match my weights.” He flexed an arm. “And I’m bulking up much
better than you are. Look at that bicep – now that’s a big gun.” He
caressed it lovingly. “Wait till the chicks see that. They’ll be
climbing across the orchestra pit to get me.”

“Of course they will,” said
Simon. “And I’ll take the ones that are left. The ones with good
taste.” He ducked with a graceful sidestep as Ricky swung at
him.

“Hey, guys!” Vincenzo was there
in moments, smoothing ruffled feathers. “Ricky, my man – you’re
looking good, bro. That supplement is really doing the business for
you. Such fast results, just like I told you, eh?” He patted
Ricky’s bulging arm. “
Bellisimo
, yes?”

Ricky preened. “Yeah, damn good.
You’re all right, Vince.”

Vincenzo’s smile flickered. “You
got enough supply? Need another packet yet?”

“No, I’m good thanks mate. I’m
off to the showers. See you later, slackers,” he called to the rest
of the guys, getting a chorus of grunts and muttered retorts in
reply.

“Hey Ricky,” called Mark, “don’t
forget the meeting tomorrow night, seven o’clock at the theatre,
remember?”

“Nah, stuff it, I’m taking my
girlfriend to the drag races tomorrow. Can’t make it.”

“Sure about that? We’ll be
deciding on our strip routines for the show. If you’re not there
Adam might just decide you’ll be the Indian from the Village
People, dancing to YMCA. Is that what you want?”

Ricky let fly a volley of
curses. “Oh all right then, I suppose I’ll be there. No pansy-ass
director’s going to get me doing anything limp-wristed, that’s for
sure. The races will keep for another week I guess.” He stormed
off, a small thundercloud of aggression surrounding him.

Dennis leaned over towards Mark
sitting at the next machine.

“He seems a bit of a handful.
What’s he like at rehearsal?”

“He was OK at first – bit of an
attitude, but pleasant enough. But lately he’s got more aggressive
and is really stroppy at times. I’m wondering if Adam’s going to
tell him to pull his head in. We don’t need that sort of behaviour
in the cast, and I’m not the only one who’s losing patience with
him.”

“Right. And it doesn’t matter
how big his biceps are, the girls won’t fancy him if he shows that
much aggro.” Dennis finished his set and stood wearily. “I’m off
now. Good luck with that meeting. Might see you there since we’re
doing some construction tomorrow. Bye.”

Dennis was amused to see Ricky
sitting quietly in the Green Room the following night, saying
little as Adam called for suggestions from the cast. While Dennis
gathered mugs and coffee supplies for the crew, he listened to the
conversation. The five actors were gathered round the
battle-scarred table with Adam and Cathy, who waved and smiled
briefly to him before focusing her attention on the group.

“Now I’d like to choreograph
routines for you that fit with your own ideas,” she said. “Do any
of you have fantasy characters you’d like to play? Anything goes at
this point. We can weed out the impractical suggestions later.
Mark, let’s start with you.”

“What about some sort of
super-hero? Superman was kind of romantic, and Captain America
seems to get all the girls going.”

“OK,” said Adam, “but we’d
probably run into copyright issues. The big studios tend to be very
protective of their rights and come down hard if they hear of any
infringement. What else – something generic if possible?”