The End of the Line (20 page)

“I
can’t stand those rich white bastards,” he said, his anger still hot. “The Old
English Club can kiss my ass.”

“It’s
a thousand dollars, Dad.”

“I
don’t want their money,” he snapped.

“It
would be good for you to work again,” she said. “That would be a project. I
think you should call.”

He
shook his head. “I ain’t never working for no white man again. I gave my blood
and guts to white bosses and what did they do when I fell and broke my back?
They cut me adrift like I was nothing.”

“You
weren’t working for The Old English Club,” Latesha said. “They didn’t do
anything to you.”

“I’m
not so sure about that,” Mr. Thomas said, narrowing his eyes. “My grandfather
knew something about those people, but he would never discuss it. I think they
ripped us off somehow. It had something to do with Moses.”

“That’s
ridiculous, Dad. How would The Old English Club have anything to do with our
family? And like you said yourself, they’re rich over there. How could they owe
us anything?”

“I
don’t know,” he said pensively, “but when granddad spoke about The Old English
Club there was something going on. He started talking about Moses, but he
stopped himself. Something happened that made him distrust them.”

“I
can’t imagine why, but even if something did happen that would have been over a
hundred years ago.” She held up the check. “This money is today.”

“Not
interested,” Mr. Thomas said.

“Oh,
come on,” Latesha said wearily.

“I’m
serious,” Mr. Thomas responded. “This is a scheme your admirer dreamt up. He
was hoping I would accept so he could be the liaison between me and the club.
Phone calls, letters, and chance meetings with my daughter. That’s what he’s
thinking, Latesha. He’s just trying to find a way to get close to you.”

“You
make him out to be some kind of criminal.” She smirked. “All he did was bring
you a proposal to do some work and make some money. God knows we could use it.”

“I
don’t want their money,” Mr. Thomas assured her. “Judas betrayed Christ for
thirty silver dollars, but I’m not betraying our family.”

“You
look at the world through hateful eyes, Dad.”

“I
see the real world,” he told her.

“Whatever,”
she said with a look of great fatigue. “I’m going down to the center to
rehearse.”

Mr.
Thomas did not say anything as he wheeled over to the television. He turned it
on, raised the volume, and seemed eager to tune out the entire world. It
worked, at least as far as Latesha was concerned, because she left the house
and turned her thoughts to the play. They had five rehearsals left and the play
was absolutely not ready. The female Romeo, though a valiant experiment, was
not working out. Even though she had memorized all the lines, watching her was
like witnessing a three-hundred-pound man wearing a dress parading down the
runway of a beauty contest. It just looked ludicrous, and the more she tried to
look and sound like a man, the more painful it became. The spirit was so low,
in fact, that rather than be excited, the entire cast was simply eager to get
it over with, hoping their performance would not become a brunt of jokes for
years to come.

Latesha
felt incredibly agitated when she walked into the center, and seeing everyone
else there, particularly the female Romeo, exasperated her. Beatrice was
already up on stage fiddling with the lights, but no matter how hard she tried,
she could not operate them properly, and certainly not to their full potential.

“I
wish Peter was here to show her exactly what to do,” Mary said to Latesha with
a sigh. “That girl is all thumbs.”

Latesha
groaned under her breath.

“What’s
wrong?” Mary questioned.

“Everything,”
Latesha said shortly, her nerves on edge.

“I
know,” Mary replied with a nod. “Things are never simple, are they?”

“Never.”

As
Latesha and the others listlessly prepared to rehearse the play again, Mary
walked into the office. Forty-five minutes later one of the actors came into
the center and mentioned that Peter had just arrived with a truck full of
building supplies. Latesha’s heart thumped. She could literally hardly breathe
for several seconds. Two of the men went out to help him unload the materials
at the back of the building.

“Are
you ready, Latesha!” one of the actors said very loudly, apparently irritated
that she had not been listening to her.

“Yes,”
Latesha answered, totally focused on the man behind the building.

They
began acting out the scene when Latesha turned and suddenly saw Peter walking
into the community center. He was wearing blue jeans, running shoes and a
coarse brown shirt. Looking at him made Latesha feel weak in the knees. Peter
was so handsome, so manly and capable, and when he strode across the floor,
walking through a swath of sunlight at one point, the glow on his blond hair
made it look like a lion’s mane.

“Peter’s
going to give Beatrice another tutorial on how to work the lights,” Mary said
hopefully to the cast. “I called and asked him to come.”

“Good,”
they all responded.

For
his part, Peter did not look at Latesha or acknowledge her in any way. He
walked right up on the stage, spoke pleasantly to Beatrice for several minutes,
and then meticulously taught her the intricacies of lighting. To make it more
clear, he took out a notepad and pen, then wrote down the exact times when
certain lights should be used. Beatrice, though a poor actress and unskilled
technician, was efficient when things were clearly explained to her, and she
knew the play inside out.

“Take
your places,” Mary said as soon as their female Romeo, Belinda, arrived. “Let’s
pick it up where we left off.”

“Houston,”
Tyrone suddenly interjected after Belinda walked up to him, “we have a
problem.”

Mary
and the others looked at him. “What is it, Tyrone?” she asked.

He
pointed at Belinda and made a funny face. “Romeo lost her voice.”

“What?”
Mary exclaimed in alarm.

Belinda
tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse squeal. She could speak
words, but the tone was so unusual that most people would not have been able to
restrain themselves from laughing. However, no one in the center was laughing.
The tragedy of
Romeo and Juliet
had
become the tragedy of Beechwood. They had to put the play on in mere days, and
now this.

“How
long will your voice be gone?” Mary asked in panic.

Belinda
held up two fingers, then squeaked, “Two weeks.”

Everyone
looked at each other in a state of shock. Had they lost a minor player, they
could have skipped over his part without most people knowing. But Romeo? They
had been willing to allow a chest-heavy woman to play one of Shakespeare’s
greatest male leads, but even that gigantic concession had not been enough.

“What
now?” Mary said with the look of someone who has just seen a ghost.

“Call
it off?” suggested Beatrice.

“We’d
have to pay back the ten thousand dollars,” Mary noted. “I don’t know about you,
but I haven’t got an extra ten dollars, neither on ten thousand. Ten of us
signed the document. That’s one thousand each, including you, Tyrone.”

“We’ll
have to do it,” Tyrone added, rubbing his eyes. “There’s no choice.” He paused.
“Get someone to read Romeo’s lines right from the book.”

“That
will look so stupid,” Mary said, shaking her head. “It’ll ruin the play.”

“If
you’ve got a better idea,” Tyrone said, “I’m all ears.”

Mary
sighed deeply. “If we’re going to do that, Tyrone, you read Romeo’s parts.”

“Not
me!” he said, backing away and shaking his hands. “I don’t want all those
people watching me reading from a book. No thanks.”

“Who
then?” Mary asked, looking at all the actors. When they all shook their heads,
Mary looked at Peter and Beatrice. “Maybe you could do it, Bea,” she said with
a hopeless laugh.

“For
God’s sake, Mary, I couldn’t do Juliet,” she said. “How in heavens would I be
able to do Romeo?” She shook her head, leaving no room for dispute. “Besides,
I’m operating the lights.”

Mary
took a deep breath and then looked at the ceiling. “Lord, please give me
strength.”

“Let’s
do a run-through with you reading Romeo’s parts for now,” Latesha said to Mary,
“and we’ll just have to find somebody over the next few days.” She looked at
Peter in absolute embarrassment. “There’s really nothing else we can do right
now, and I need the practice.”

“All
right,” Mary agreed. “Places everyone. I’ll read Romeo’s parts from here.”

Latesha
glanced at Peter with the expression of someone hopelessly lost in the forest.
“Can someone adjust that light?” she asked, putting up her hand to shield her
eyes. “It’s just slightly at the wrong angle.”

Peter
quickly walked over and showed Beatrice how to adjust the equipment.

“That’s
better,” Latesha said with a smile and nod to Peter.

He
stood back and prepared to watch her in action. Latesha was a gifted actress,
both with the physical movement of her body, including hand gestures and the
incredible expressiveness of her features. She was also a very fine speaker.
Her words were clearly spoken and it was obvious she had an in-depth
understanding of their meaning.

She
became more confident, throwing herself into the role. After reciting her lines
the first time she met Romeo, to everyone’s shock Peter suddenly stepped forward
and spoke Romeo’s lines in a clear and precise way, adding an obvious stage
presence and the projection of his voice.

All
the actors suddenly stopped and looked at him. Latesha and Mary also stared
with stark surprise as they realized he had spoken Romeo’s part. Latesha paused
and looked at the script, confirming Peter had somehow replied in sequence. She
recited her next lines and then looked at him. With the voice and manner of a
confident Shakespearean actor, he spoke Romeo’s lines to perfection.

“Wait
a minute!” Latesha said, realizing he had spoken the proper words. She looked
around. “How did you do that?”

The
others also scanned the area to see if he was somehow able to read the words
from a nearby sheet.

“For
several summers I worked in the Shakespeare by the Sea Theater Company down at
Point Pleasant Park,” Peter explained. “I played Macbeth, Hamlet, King Lear.”
He had a very serious look on his face. “I really wanted to play Othello, but
never got the part. Romeo was a different story. I played him at least a
hundred times.”

Mary
shook her head in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“Not
joking,” he answered. “I know every line inside out, upside down and
backwards.”

Mary
clapped her hands with a look of sheer excitement. “God is good!”

The
others started to nod.

“No
way!” Latesha suddenly exclaimed, shaking her head with the most forceful
expression imaginable. “That don’t work, baby girl!”

Mary
looked at her without blinking. “I’ll tell you what doesn’t work and that’s
what we have right now. We’re either going to have to cancel and come up with a
truckload of money, or we’re going to look like the biggest collection of
bloody fools who ever lived. They’re going to laugh us off the stage.”

“Your
troupe is actually very good,” Peter said, stepping forward. “I love Tyrone as
Benvolio. He really brings him alive.” Peter looked at Tyrone, who basked in
the praise.

“Dude’s
in the play!” Tyrone proclaimed, pointing at Peter. “Slam dunk, don’t give me
no junk, dude is in the play!”

“No!”
Latesha said with a firm set to her lips.

“Why
not?” Beatrice asked with the same look of concern on everyone else’s faces.
“It’s perfect, Latesha.”

“I
hardly know him,” she stammered, refusing to look Peter in the eye. “And he’d
be playing my lover.”

“So
what?” Beatrice shot back. “It’s a play, Latesha. Up until a short while ago a
woman was going to be playing your lover.”

Everyone
laughed except Latesha and Peter.

“It’s
your call, Latesha,” Tyrone said with a shrug, “but one way or the other this
thing is going to be legend. It’ll either be a legend because it sucked so bad,
or it’ll be a legend because it was so damned good. How do you want to be
remembered? And think about us. We’ve been a team for weeks now. We’ve given up
a lot of time and effort, put everything we have into this juggernaut. It’s
about us, too, Latesha. And it’s about Beechwood. We’re representing the
community. I don’t want to look like a bunch of clowns. I want people to stand
and cheer.”

“It
does affect all of us, Latesha,” Mary said softly. “Tyrone’s right. It’s not
just about you. We’re either going to look like a bunch of idiots, or we’re
going to do a first class job. Peter is the missing piece. Only a fool would
dispute that.”

“It’s
only a play,” Tyrone said. “We’re all just putting on a show. Make believe.
There’s nothing to it, Latesha.”

Latesha
rolled her eyes.

“Please,”
Mary said.

Latesha
could not speak, but everyone looked at her with the same expression. It was
now her decision whether they put on a horrible play or a great play.

“Please,”
a number of them asked at once. “Please, Latesha.”

“All
right,” she stammered, then immediately regretted it.

“Thank
you for giving your word,” Mary quickly said, hugging her. “I know you would
never break your word.”

The
others moved away immediately and chattered among themselves, leaving Latesha
alone with her thoughts. “I don’t want any rehearsals,” she suddenly said
loudly enough for the others to hear.

“What?”
Mary asked, perplexed.

“No
rehearsals with him,” Latesha said firmly, without looking at Peter. “I’ll
practice with the others, and they can practice with him, but I do not want to
rehearse our lines together. Not until that night. I’m firm on that or I won’t
do it.”