Page 9 of Wicked Games

We were both waiting stage left in the wings for our entrances.

“The dress of course,” sniped Jane in a low tone.

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened the box,” I whispered harshly back, already regretting telling Jane about my encounter with him… Richard.

“How could you not?—”

Her admonishment was cut off as I surged forward onto the stage.

“Lord Radfoot. Thank you for coming so quickly after receiving my note.” I stood in the center of the parlor room set with my left shoulder upstage and body at a slight angle. The idea was to appear as though I were talking directly to the actor across from me but not present the audience with only a profile of my face.

Mike, the actor playing Lord Radfoot, grasped my hands. “I took the swiftest horse I could find to be by your side, Lady Elizabeth. I am at your service.”

I collapsed onto the chaise lounge. “I fear I am going mad,” I exclaimed, careful not to oversell it.

Mike sat next to me, his hand once more grasping my own. “My dear, dear Lady Elizabeth, do not speak of such things. It is that fiend you have married. He is to blame for your melancholy.”

Rising swiftly, I crossed down stage right, facing the audience. “Lord Radfoot, you mustn’t say such things about my husband.”

Mike crossed behind me and wrapped his hands around my waist. “I must. I will no longer keep silent. I love you, Elizabeth.”

In that moment, I caught Richard’s eye. He was standing near the wall close to the stage just under a low light fixture. His whole body radiated anger, from his clenched fist to his thunderous expression. It almost seemed as if he were pissed about Mike touching me. That was insane of course. Mike was just acting and it wasn’t like Richard was some jealous boyfriend of mine.

Still, I was so shaken by the thought I missed my cue.

“Your line, Lizzie,” hissed Mike in my ear.

“No, Lord Radfoot. I must not!” With that I broke away and ran off stage left.

“Seriously, how could you not have looked at the dress?” continued Jane as if our conversation had never been interrupted.

I couldn’t tell her the truth… that I was afraid to.

I just shrugged, having no answer for her. Finally, I said, “It’s probably something silly his wife picked out.”

“He doesn’t have a wife.”

Ignoring the slight skip in my heartbeat at that news, I still tried to brush Jane off. “Fine then. It’s probably just some traditional gift he gives his leading ladies on the last night of a run.”

“This is the first play he’s produced.”

Exasperated, I turned to Jane with my hands open in a placating gesture. “Why? Why? Why do you know so much about him?” All I wanted was her to shut up about the subject and yet with each blow-off statement I made, she came back at me with more and more information about a man I was already way too frightened of and intrigued about as it was.

“Ladies! Shhh….”

“Sorry, Sally,” we both monotoned.

“Do you think it means?—”

I cut Jane off. “That’s your cue.”

“Damn.”

Straightening her apron, Jane shimmied out onto the stage, saying her lines with a deep French accent.

My eyes shifted to where Richard had been standing. With a sigh of relief, I saw that he was gone. I didn’t think I could have finished the play without flubbing my lines if he remained there staring at me with those eyes of his.

With this being our last night, I had wanted to take it all in. Memorize every moment. Instead, I went through my lines and stage directions like a robot, my mind completely preoccupied with thoughts of the tall, dark man who had possibly taken a sudden and terrifying interest in me.

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