Page 8 of Reeve

“That’s all we have time for tonight,” says Bruce, bracing his hands on the table in front of him to help lift his considerable bulk. “You’re both doing wonderfully well, aren’t they, Reeve? Such chemistry!”

“Almost like they’re really together,” I say, standing up beside Bruce, “in real life.”

Ivy grins at me. Sawyer, too.

“Well, I’m headed home,” says Bruce, leaving his notes and papers spread out in a mess on the table. “Aaron!” he calls. “Lock up for us when you’re done?”

Aaron’s head peeks out from behind the maroon velvet curtain. On his cheek is a slash of light blue paint, and in his hand, a brush. “You got it, Bruce! Have a good night.”

“Good to have a police officer on crew, huh?” Bruce asks me. “You can leave him here all night, without a worry in the world.”

I sniff in response.

“You could be a little nicer to him, missy.”

“Or Aaron could move to Barrow,” I innocently suggest.

Brucetsksat me with disapproval, then heads up the aisle toward the exit. As I contemplate the mess on the table, Sawyer pauses at the end of my row.

“See you tomorrow?” he asks me in a low voice. “Six o’clock?”

“What are we doing at six tomorrow?” asks Ivy.

“Nothing!” we chirp in unison.

“What are you two up to?” she asks, pulling on mittens.

“Just some Christmas shopping,” I say.

“Ooo! Help him choose something good for me, huh, Reeve?”

“Will do,” I promise, waving goodbye as they follow Bruce out the door.

Bruce’s notes are scattered all over the table, and part of my job as stage manager is to type them up into a one-page summary and print them for distribution before the next rehearsal. I think I’ll get that done quick before I go.

First, I gather up two or three used coffee cups and take them to the trash. Under a paper towel, I find Bruce’s phone.Gah.I’ll stop by the Parsnip on my way home to return it. My sisters are meeting up there for a bite tonight anyway, so two birds, one stone.

I sit back down, open my laptop, and start gathering up Bruce’s scrawled suggestions, some on index cards, and others scribbled in the margins of a very dog-eared script.

Ivy should play dumb, but not THAT dumb.

Could Sawyer do a little more of the growly thing he did as Heathcliff? Sexy AF.

No need to amp up the sexual tension between these two, but in some moments, we may need to pull it back a little. There will be kids in the audience.

Daphne du Maurier sure was a c*nt.

Tell Aaron that the Monte set needs to sparkle, and Manderley needs to be dark dark dark.

“Aaron!” I call out.

“Yeah?”

I don’t look up. “Bruce says that the Monte Carlo set needs to sparkle, and Manderley needs to be dark, dark, dark.”

“Yeah. He already told me.”

“Great,” I mutter, grabbing two index cards at the far end of the table.

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