Page 2 of Script Swap
“I’m basically a hero!”
“Of course you are, dear,” Indira said.She even patted my arm again.“I think you should consider this play an honor.It’s a testament to your accomplishments.”
Okay, thatwasa slightly better way of putting it.
“You’ll feel less honored,” Fox said, “when you hear your soliloquy in the second act on, quote, ‘the woes of being a virgin.’”
“That’s it.I’m going home.”
“No, no, no,” Fox said.“Please!”
I looked at Bobby.
“Whatever you want to do,” he said.
“Dashiell, please,” Fox said again.“I never ask you for anything.”
“You asked me for my Ring Ding yesterday.”
That must have gotten their dander up because Fox’s voice took on a hint of Ye Olde English, and they even did a dramatic flourish with one hand as they pronounced, “Then I shall never ask for anything again.”A lot of the bluster dropped out, though, when they said again, “Please?”
I sighed.I grimaced.I might have even groaned.
And then I started down the street again.
Our destination was on the next corner: The Historic Foxworthy Theatre.(It’s spelledt-h-e-a-t-r-ebecause that’s classier.) And yes, before you ask, there’s definitely a connection between The Foxworthy and, well, Fox.As it turns out, a family connection.
The Foxworthy was a prominent building in Hastings Rock’s scenic downtown.I’d passed it dozens of times.During the summer, tourists thronged there for productions likeDames at SeaandWish You Were HereandPirates of Penzance—which also explained, in case you were wondering, why I’d never set foot inside.It was a two-story building with an ornate—albeit weathered—stucco façade, and in front, an old-fashioned marquee with black letters announced the premiere ofBETRAYAL!!!: THE WORM HAS TURNED: THE DANIEL DANK STORY.
Yeah.About that.
So, apparently Pippi Parker—that’s local mystery author Pippi Parker, my part-time nemesis, full-time nuisance, who had once accused me publicly of murder and then, later, roped me into provingshewas innocent inanothermurder—decided to write a play.About my life.Loosely—and I cannot stress this enough:loosely—based on how I had caught Vivienne Carver.With enough changes (seeDaniel Dank) that she didn’t have to pay me for my life rights.You can probably guess how I felt about all of that.
(Also, in case you need proof that Pippi was behind this madness, all you have to do is look at the title of the dang thing.It has three exclamation points and two subtitles.)
And here I was.Attending said premiere.Personal feelings, best judgment, and pending lawsuit to the contrary.
Because Fox had asked me to.
No, scratch that.Notasked.Begged.
And honestly, it was so unsettling that I blame my total disequilibrium for why I now found myself in this predicament.
As we approached the theater—er, theatre—the number of people on the sidewalk increased until we were moving through an honest-to-God crowd.And while August in Hastings Rock was always busy with tourists, these were all people from town.The Archer clan was there—Cosmo, three years old and the legal definition of an ankle-biter, was screaming as he ran up and down the sidewalk, apparently for the joy of it.Dr.Xu waved at us as she passed.Even Mr.Del Real, of Swift Lift Towing, was there with his wife (Mrs.Del Real of Swift Lift Towing).Mrs.Del Real actuallybeamedwhen she saw me.It took me a moment—and another of those destabilizing moments of disbelief—and then it landed.
They were all going to see this freaking play.
(Note: in my head, I didn’t sayfreaking.)
I was still processing this when we reached the doors to the theater.Fox said something to the teenager who was taking tickets—he was a total beanpole, and he literally flinched when Keme looked at him; you could practically see Keme’s head swell—and then Fox ushered us inside.
It was what I expected.Kind of.
Fading elegance.Dusty glory.Red carpet.Gold stanchions with velvet ropes.Lots of elaborate plaster ornamentation (I wanted to say cornices?) that had been painted gold.A coffered ceiling with medallions.And, of course, the smell of popcorn.
No, I told myself.
No way.
