Page 87 of Something Cheeky

“I was thinking we should extend the run,” Greg suggested.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked cautiously. The man had a motive behind everything.

“We’re skipping previews and invited dress rehearsal,” Greg clarified. “Let’s start the run earlier.”

“That means moving up opening night by almost two weeks!” Derek exclaimed.

“Exactly! It’ll coincide with the start of DC’s Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month Festival. The festival organizer thought it was a great idea—which I put into her head.” He squared his shoulders proudly like a child waiting for a compliment from his parents.

Derek silently counted to five so he wouldn’t scream.

“Greg, we can’t possibly be ready for the public after two and a half weeks of rehearsal.” Derek spoke slowly to hide his growing panic.

“You’ll still have tech.”

Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes. The only thing predictable about tech rehearsals was that nothing ever went according to plan.

“Derek, isn’t this what you wanted?” Greg’s face fell in real disappointment.

Derek clenched his fist.

“Yes, but not like—”

“Now that the show is one of the headliners for the festival, you’ll get more publicity. Word of mouth will spread across the DMV.” Greg spread his arms out to demonstrate.

“If we keep our current schedule, people will see a more polished production,” Derek attempted to reason.

“Two extra weeks of shows means more ticket sales and will prove to the board and producers that there’s an audience foryourmusical.”

Greg’s emphasis implied that the success of the show rested on Derek’s shoulders. Of course it did. As the director, he’d made all the casting and creative choices. It was his vision and he couldn’t let his team down. Or all the Asian people who needed to see themselves represented onstage.

“I also want to give us a fighting chance. Which means giving the cast and the designers the time they need,” Derek said in a firm voice.

He’d allowed Greg too much leeway and now the man was trying to steer the production. Derek needed to regain control of the ship.

“You said it yourself that they’re talented. Even the inexperienced designer, Zoe. Your team will figure it out.”

The man had tossed his words back at him. Derek opened his mouth but nothing came out. At least nothing that wouldn’t get him fired.

“You’re in shock now, but this is a good thing. Besides, we can’t change our mind because marketing has already sent everything out to the printers.”

“What?” Derek’s chest tightened as he forced himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He’d have no chance to change Greg’s mind because the decision had already been made before the man walked through the door.

“I believe in you, Derek. I know you won’t let me down.” Greg clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget the better this show does, the bigger your chances of getting my job when I retire.”

“But what if I don’t want—”

“I’ll give you the chance to personally share the good news with the cast,” Greg continued, ignoring Derek’s protests.

Greg flashed his perfectly white teeth in a smile, but all Derek could see was red. Greg gave Derek a thumbs-up before leaving the rehearsal room.

“Fuck!” Derek screamed silently. Everyone would be back from lunch soon and he needed to regain his composure. He walked along the tape that the stage manager had used to mark out the stage as if it were a meditation circle but rectangular instead.

“What the fuck was that?” Th?o exclaimed. She’d come back early with two iced coffees in her hands.

“You heard?” He rubbed his forehead.

“I’m not even sorry for eavesdropping. I was headed up here when I saw Greg practically skip toward the rehearsal room.” She set the drinks down.

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