Page 103 of Sweet T
The lights above the theatre door flashed, showing that intermission was ending. Tucker took another swig of the bourbon before heading back inside.
* * *
The second half was shorter, but equally tragic. Evan’s part was mysteriously over, though Tucker was expecting it, based on what Evan had told him concerning the Fool’s infamous absence at a critical point in the play. War was pending because of both the treacherous and misguided actions of the principals in the cast. By the end of the play, ten characters were dead, including Lear, Gloucester, Regan, Goneril and Cordelia–all the major players.
But it was a lesson well told, and Tucker had absorbed it all with his eyes. He’d gone along for the ride, as his Aunt Barb had suggested, and like a roller-coaster, it was thrilling and exhausting. When the lights went out, and then came back on for curtain call, he was on his feet clapping with the rest of the small audience.
First minor characters came out, bowed, and then stepped aside. Then, secondary, followed by the leads. When Sebastian waddled out for his bow, he gestured opposite the stage and Evan joined him, Lear finally reunited with his Fool.
Tucker grabbed the bouquet from beneath his jacket and made for the low stage. When Evan rose from his bow, Tucker was there, holding the flowers out to him. His mouth was a perfect o, divided by the white greasepaint of his role.
Evan took the flowers and leaned down again, planting a big one on Tucker’s lips. The applause rose again in volume.
“You’re amazing,” Tucker mouthed to Evan over the din.
“No. You are,” Evan mouthed back, clutching the bouquet to his chest.
* * *
The house lights were on and most folks had left by the time Evan returned from backstage. He was in his street clothes now, makeup removed, backpack over his shoulder and toting the bouquet.
“Where’s Sebastian?” Tucker asked. “I want to congratulate him.”
“He’s being interviewed for the paper. You’ll get your chance tomorrow. I volunteered the tavern for the cast party.”
“Good idea.”
“I thought you might approve.” Evan emerged from the shadow of the stage into the glow of the house lights. He smiled. “Come here. Lean down. I got makeup on you.”
Evan removed a towel from his bag and wiped Tucker’s face with it. “Local press was invited tonight. Sebastian says it’s a good way to get free publicity in tomorrow’s paper. Help ticket sales.”
“I don’t think you’re going to have problems selling tickets. The show’s incredible.”
“Really?” Evan asked, betraying a bit of insecurity. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
Tucker shook his head. “Nope. And I didn’t have a bit of trouble understanding it. You were my favorite, but Sebastian was so convincing... and all those lines. Jeez. How the hell does he remember all that?”
“It’s easier, believe it or not. Modern shows are much tougher.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Tucker put his blazer on and took Evan’s bag as they made their way out of the auditorium. “And Cassie–my God. She was so cruel.”
Evan chuckled. “Yeah. I’ve nicknamed her Bitch Goddess.”
“It was so unlike her. I’ll be afraid next time we’re together.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so. She’ll love it. She’s been a little nervous.”
“Well, she doesn’t need to be. She was great. Everything was great–the set, the music. Oh, and the costumes were gorgeous.”
“That’s Linda. She’s Regan. Sebastian and her have been spending long nights together, sewing.”
“Where does he find the time?”
“I told you, it’s a lot of work.”
The lobby was empty. Evan grabbed the last bottle of water on the tray, still sitting there. They went through the door and warm, humid air embraced them.
“I met your friend earlier,” Tucker said. “Lance.”