The Juliet Spell (21 page)

“Thanks, Mr. Lawrence,” the bad haircut said. “As you know, your director Mr. Gillinger has suffered a severe heart attack. Unfortunately, that means he won’t be able to con.tinue directing this show. And since you can’t have a play without a director, I’m afraid we’re going to have to shut down the production.”

A sort of moan ran through the cast, even though we’d known what we were going to hear. Some of us said, “No,” out loud, and Bobby Ruspoli stood up.

“This is totally bullshit, man,” he said. “Don’t tell me you can’t find somebody to take over.”

“I understand that you’re upset, Bobby,” Mr. Lawrence put in. “You’ve all worked very hard.”

“The point is, we can’t find anyone qualified on such short notice,” Mr. Zecher said.

“Let me try,” Bill London said. “I know some directors. A couple up in San Francisco, a couple over in Oakland. They’ve got years of chops. Heck, I know people doing Eq.uity waiver stuff in L.A. we could get. People who’ve di.rected on Broadway. Better than Gillinger.”

We rippled agreement.

“Thank you very much,” Zecher said. “But as I’m sure you know time is of the essence. We need somebody now, not next week. And the stipend for directing the show wouldn’t be enough to get somebody from out of the area—”

“Can I at least try?” Bill said.

“The school and the city have taken the decision together to cancel the show,” Mr. Lawrence said. “I know how dis.appointed many of you are. But there are probably several other shows that will be performed in the area this summer. I wish you luck in getting a part in one of them. Now, un.less there are any further questions, I think it’s time to bring this meeting to a close.”

“Like hell it is!” Bobby Ruspoli shouted, and we all ap.plauded.

“Isn’t it simply the truth that you don’t want to do the show and never did?” Phil Hormel said.

We applauded his question. Phil was right, I was sure of it. Gillinger had made Lawrence and Zecher mad when he sneered at them for not letting him do Doctor Faustus. This was just revenge. But it was revenge on us, not him—and we were innocent.

“Get us a director,” Bobby shouted.

“This meeting is over,” Mr. Lawrence said. “Thank you all for coming, and for being willing to work so hard. Please leave the building.”

Edmund jumped out of his seat and leapt onto the stage. He threw out his arms and roared, “All of ye—you—give me your phone numbers. Take no new parts. I’ll be in touch to tell you where we are to do this play!”

A few people cheered. A couple laughed. Most just stared at him.

Then the stage lights went out. “To the lobby,” Edmund shouted, like he was leading an army. “We’ll not let these counter-casting rogues stop us.”

Out in the lobby the evening light was coming in through the plate-glass doors, and a lot of people came over and gave Edmund our numbers and email addresses. Not everyone, but way more than half the cast. We purposely did it slowly while Zecher and Lawrence bleated that the meeting was over and it was time to close the theater. Then, when Ed.mund was holding a sheaf of little pieces of paper with all the actors’ info, we four walked out together, Edmund, Bobby, Drew and I.

“What’s up?” Bobby said. “What are we going to do?”

“What else?” Edmund said. “We are going to do the play, dude. Just as I said.”

“Where, exactly?” I wanted to know.

“Where best we may. And I know the place if we can get it. Drew, friend, will you drive us?”

“Sure,” Drew said. “Where are we going?”

“Malpaso Row,” Edmund said.

“Shotgun,” Bobby said.

We parked in the lot at the edge of the Row and followed Edmund through the fake Italian streets.

“This whole place is but a set,” Edmund said. “A sort of toy Verona where folk shop and live. And since it is a toy city, it has a toy square. Behold.”

Drew, Bobby and I looked where Edmund was pointing. It was the place where the four arms of stores came together and the traffic flowed around a big hexagonal plaza with a fountain. Since it was Sunday, a lot of people were out stroll.ing with their dogs and their babies, or sitting on the green metal benches.

“In fair Verona where we lay our scene,” Edmund began, “We can set up seats on three sides of one end of the square that is not a square, build a simple, sturdy stage with dis.covery and balcony, and do the rest of our acting on these bricks. It could be done.”

“Where would you get the money?” Bobby asked.

“I will ask the cast for it,” Edmund said.

“Just like that, we’re going to give you the money to do this show?” I said.

“’Tis what we did in London. A few actors with the money put up costs and then appear on the stage. If the play goes well, they prosper. The only difference is, we have no hired players here.”

“I’ve got a thousand bucks saved up,” Drew said. “You can have it.”

“Wow, dude,” Bobby said. Then he said. “My bike’s tita.nium. Four thousand new. Probably get three for it.”

Drew kicked into full-thinking mode. “Let’s ask some of the others. If we can get a few thousand more together, we may have some cred with the management here when we go to them with the idea.”

“Aye, cred. That’s the thing,” Edmund said. “Whatever it is, we must have it.”

I couldn’t believe it, but Edmund was turning into a pro.ducer before my wondering eyes. And the other thing I couldn’t believe absolutely was that I believed in his ability to pull this off.

“And one more thing we must have. Kneel down with me, friends, or not, as ye are minded to do.”

Edmund knelt to pray. Bobby got down on all fours at first. He thought Edmund was going to do some kind of ac.tor’s exercise. Drew shrugged and got down beside Bobby, but he understood what Edmund was doing. He folded his hands. I joined Edmund. I didn’t believe any of it, but he did, and that was enough for me.

Edmund clenched his hands together. “Heavenly Father, we do implore Your blessing on our endeavors. If all the world’s a stage as ’tis said, let this stage rise like a new cre.ation, and if it be Your will, may it happen soon, for we’ve got only four weeks. Bless all who undertake this labor, and may our work be offered to Your greater glory. Amen.”

Looking around out of the corner of my eye, I could see some people staring at us, and a little kid pointing and ask.ing what we were doing. I kind of was wondering the same thing myself.

Edmund opened his eyes. “I dare to hope He has said yes,” he declared to us. Then he got up and threw his arms around me and Drew. Drew reached out an arm and dragged Bobby in.

“Here’s how it shall be,” my Romeo said. “We raise the money—we’ve already begun that. Then we find what we need to build the theater. Then we take the whole to who.ever gives us permission to do it. This we must do in three days. Then, we build the stage, rehearse our play and do it for the multitudes who will come.”

“Damn,” Bobby said. “This kicks ass.”

“Aye,” Edmund said. “It doth.”

Chapter Twenty.

Five

That night, Edmund called everyone who’d given him a phone number. Amazingly, more people agreed to put up at least some money for the show. There’s something about an English accent that makes anything sound reasonable to an American, I think. Anyway, by the end of the evening, he had over ten thousand dollars in pledges.

When I got to school the next morning, it was the first day of finals week. The year was ending and I’d hardly no.ticed. Amazingly, I sailed through my first one, biology, and even finished early. I hadn’t known I liked the subject so well.

When I went out into the hall, I saw Tanya Blair. She waved and came hurrying toward me.

“This is fantastic,” she said. “Is it okay if I tell my Uncle Lou?”

“Sure. You can sell him a ticket.”

“No, that’s not it,” Tanya said. “My uncle Lou has a com.pany. It’s him and this other guy. Standing Ovation. They

build sets. They’ve got contracts with the theaters all over this area. They could bid on the job.”

To tell you the truth, I had sort of been wondering how a bunch of kids were going to build an Elizabethan theater. This sounded encouraging.

“Have him talk to Edmund,” I said. “Fast.”

That afternoon, when my English final was over, Ed.mund called me and said to meet him at the Row. When I got there, standing in the square were a couple of guys who were definitely theater types. One was short and good- looking with an elaborate beard. The other was almost a gi.ant, dressed in a leather kilt with tools hanging off of it.

The one with the beard turned out to be Tanya’s Uncle Lou.

“Well met, gentlemen,” Edmund said, shaking their hands. “I’m Edmund Shakeshaft, and this is Miranda Hoberman. She plays Juliet.”

“Hi, Miri,” Lou said. “Glad to meet you. Tanya’s said some good words about you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “It’s great you guys want the contracts. But did Edmund tell you we’ve only got ten thousand dol.lars? And it’s mostly in pledges.”

“We can do it for five,” Gerry said. “And if you can front a thousand or so, we can get started as soon as you want.”

“How can you do it so cheap?” I wanted to know.

“Because most of it’s ready to go—we did the same kind of thing last year up in San Francisco. Open air Comedy of Errors. We’ve still got the stage. All we have to do is knock it back together, anchor it and repaint it so it looks like what you want.”

“Something else we could offer,” Lou said. “We made some knock-down portable seats. Sort of like two-tier bleachers with backs. Seats about a thousand.”

“Very good,” Edmund said.

“And Fresnels. Will you be wanting Fresnels?” Lou said. “We’ve got those.”

“Ah. Fresnels,” Edmund said.

He knew nothing about lighting, I realized. All his plays in England had been done in sunlight. All our rehearsals so far had been done under bright work lights.

“Yes. We want you to light the show,” I jumped in. “We’ll run them if you can provide them.”

“Provide ’em, set ’em up, run ’em if you want,” Gerry said.

“An extra five hundred’ll cover it,” Lou said.

“Thanks,” I said. “That’ll be great.”

Edmund gave me a grateful look. Then he extended his hand to Lou and Gerry. “Gentlemen, ye are hired,” he said. “Now, we have an appointment with the management of this marketplace in thirty minutes. I suggest that we all go. It will give us cred.”

The manager of Malpaso Row was a young well-dressed woman named Elizabeth Castillo. She wasn’t used to offering part of her mall to theater types. But she also wasn’t used to the level of charm that the three guys I was with knew how to project. Edmund was young, serious and full of passion. Every time she heard his British accent, she would smile. Lou was elegant. He talked a little about the sets he’d built, and leaned forward to listen every time Elizabeth Castillo had a question or a comment to make. And Gerry just threw out his legs, leaned back in his seat and smiled a testosterone-rich grin at her that never stopped.

In twenty minutes, the facilities manager leaned forward, gave all the guys a huge smile and said, “I wasn’t inclined to say yes to your proposal, gentlemen, but I’ve changed my mind. Malpaso Row does have a policy of doing a certain amount of community outreach, and Shakespeare is popu.lar. Taking everything into consideration, I think your play is an experiment that we can support.”

And we walked out with permission to build a theater in the middle of a mall.

The four of us went to the bookstore next, and over an espresso, Edmund signed a contract with Lou and Gerry.

“You spoke of a thousand,” Edmund said. “But I have two upon me, and ye may as well have them both now.”

He pulled a wad of hundreds out of his hip pocket and handed them over to Lou.

“I’m going to enjoy this job,” Lou said.

Two thousand bucks. Just like that. I shook my head. Maybe God did want to get this show up and running.

Chapter Twenty.

Six

Edmund reassembled the cast the next night, in our back.yard. Mom had been glad to let us use it, and had even helped with some mysterious project involving huge amounts of typing and editing. There were some boxes full of paper on the patio. When I asked what they were, Edmund only winked and said, “Patience.”

About a quarter of the cast wasn’t there. Word was they were tired of the fights and tension. Even if there was a good chance that those things were over, they’d had enough. Mostly, these were the smaller parts, but you know how they say there are no small parts, only small actors? This time it wasn’t true. Verona was decimated.

Vivian was there, which didn’t exactly cheer me up. I’d really hoped she’d quit. She kept away from Edmund, though, and sat close to her mother.

Drew was one of the missing, and that was much worse. You can’t do Romeo and Juliet without Mercutio. I left mes.sages on his phone and at his mother’s studio.

The rest of us were lounging around on the grass in our newly beautified yard. We were willing, but confused. We knew what we wanted to do, but not how we were going to do it. We wanted Edmund to tell us.